#i’ll make her smell colors after the earth shattering head i’ll give her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chaos-burst · 3 years ago

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one way or another (i’m gonna get you)

Dorian has a problem.

That problem is currently drunk off his ass and trying to balance one of Opal’s daggers on the tip of his nose. Of course he’s failing miserably, hitting himself in the eye with the blunt end twice thus far and maybe Dorian shouldn’t chuckle about it, but Dariax just keeps trying as Opal and Fearne edge him on.

“If you’re not careful you’ll stab your own eye out”, Orym says. He’s still nursing the same beer he started drinking an hour ago, probably to stay sober enough to stop any shenanigans that go too far.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, buddy. That already happened to me, like, three times, and I just healed it back together. No big deal.”

Dorian can see that Orym is at a loss for words.

“Dorian, do you think I can do it?”, Dariax calls over to him where he’s sitting, holding his lute and enjoying the warm evening breeze.

“Sure, Dariax. I’ll write a song about you if you do”, he says with an amused smile. Dorian tries to keep his smile from widening as Dariax beams at him and tries even harder.

All his life Dorian has been taught to be proper and well behaved—maybe that is why he feels drawn towards—well. Towards the group. The group that Dariax is also a part of and that Dorian definitely doesn’t feel drawn towards more than any of the others.

He starts moving his fingers mindlessly over the strings of his lute as Dariax stumbles backwards, falls over Opal’s outstretched legs and lands in her lap with the dagger clattering to the ground in front of them.

Dorian thinks about Dariax sitting on his lap, then he almost chokes on his own spit because so far Dariax hasn’t done anything even remotely appealing or attractive. He’s had shit on his beard, piss on his hands, he’s dirty and loud and so obnoxious.

But when he told Dorian that he’s the handsome one and that he’s just good at talking to people and whether Dorian wants some tips from him—Dorian was tempted. For a split second, he was thinking about Dariax offering to teach him how to flirt.

Because Dorian might be aware that he’s handsome, but he has exactly zero idea about how to flirt with people.

“Hey, Dorian! Do I still get a song?”, Dariax shouts, still half sitting in Opal’s lap.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll write you a song.”

“Cool! It’s a promise!”, Dariax says, thumbs up, a big grin on his handsome face.

There, Dorian can admit it.

Dariax is handsome. They’re all handsome. It’s really no big deal. Not at all.

Dorian tries not to think about what his parents would say about Dariax, because it’s completely irrelevant. It’s not like his parents will meet his friends, and especially not Dariax. Maybe he should go to bed and hope that come the next morning his circling thoughts will have stopped.

“Are you working on the song?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head, only to come face to face with Dariax who managed to get up from Opal’s lap and is now sitting right next to him, leaning way into Dorian’s personal space.

Dariax smells like ten different kinds of alcohol, leather and thankfully no bodily fluids, which is definitely an improvement. Dorian wishes that the fact that he’s seen this man with shit on his beard would dissuade his heart from beating a little faster every time Dariax grins at him.

Sadly his heart doesn’t care.

Neither does his stomach, which is currently doing all kinds of complicated gymnastics since Dariax invaded Dorian’s personal space.

“No. I don’t think I can concentrate in here while all that is going on”, Dorian says and gestures towards Opal who is now teaching Fearne how to do body shots.

“Aw, man. Can you play something? Something...hm. Something cool.”

“All my songs are cool, thank you very much!”

Dariax laughs.

“Yeah, okay, you’re not wrong there. You have a really beautiful voice, buddy. No wonder that goliath lady fell in love with you after like, three minutes!”

Dorian feels something that reminds him a lot of the feeling he gets when he’s falling or misses a step on some stairs. His heart starts doing an offensive little tumble and he clears his throat a little too loud as he leans out of Dariax’ space and clutches his lute as if his life depends on it.

“I don’t think I would know what to do if someone actually fell in love with me”, Dorian says with an embarrassingly shrill laugh and a second after the words have left his mouth he regrets them already.

“Aw, buddy, I told you—I can totally teach you a few tricks, you know? Just show you how to get real popular with the ladies. Or gents. Or people in general”, Dariax says and winks at him.

Dorian wishes he could turn into thin air. His cheeks feel very hot.

“I—uh. I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not like I really have the time—“

Dariax snorts and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on, Dorian. We’re just hanging out, right? If you wanna get laid, we have plenty of time for that. You should just relax a little more. Okay, so. What’s your type?”

Dorian stares at Dariax for almost thirty seconds before he clears his throat again.

“Uh. I—don’t. Well. Adventurous. Maybe—uh. Maybe brunettes?”

“Adventurous brunettes? That’s pretty vague, buddy. Just saying. Wait a second!”

Dariax leans closer again and puts his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Then he does a terrible shout-whisper into Dorian’s ear that shouldn’t give him goosebumps but, fuck, it definitely does.

“Are you into Orym?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head to stare at Dariax who looks as if he just found out an earth-shattering secret through some careful investigation.

“N—no! No, he’s not. I mean, Orym is—fine? I don’t, uh—what I meant to say is... I don’t really know what my type is”, he ends lamely.

Of course Dariax feels the need to put an arm around Dorian now.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get you laid in no time. You have a pretty face and voice and all that, pretty sure that’ll go easy peasy.”

“That’s really not—“

“Hey guys, what are you whispering about?”, Opal shouts.

“We’re trying to figure out what Dorian’s type is to get him laid!”, Dariax shouts back.

“No, that’s not—“

“Ohh! Interesting! You don’t have a type? Did you never have a relationship before? Wait—are you like, a virgin?”

Dorian abruptly gets up from his chair. He’s definitely not drunk enough for this.

“I’m going to bed”, he says and leaves the room in a hurry, ignoring the disappointed shouts of his new friends following him outside.

Dorian hopes that his friends have forgotten the whole thing about supposedly getting him laid and about how Dariax intends to teach him flirting. But unfortunately the universe decides to not do him this favor.

Suddenly, every remotely attractive person they pass invokes a whole litany of questions.

Opal, Fearne and Dariax want to know everything. Which height, body-type, eye color, temperament, and style of clothing does he like? Does he prefer any genders to others? On six different occasions, Dariax tries to wingman Dorian into asking random strangers on dates.

Dorian is so desperate that he considers just telling them that he actually has someone back home, just so they will leave him alone.

It wouldn’t be the first lie he told.

Dorian feels a pang of guilt for lying about his name to these people who keep fighting alongside him.

Orym, bless his soul, is the only person who doesn’t partake in these interrogations and at some point, after Opal had asked Dorian if he was more into “tits or asses” Orym had quietly stated that “he deserves his privacy, you guys”.

Dorian has no idea if he’s a “tits or asses” kinda guy.

But Dorian just can’t stop thinking about the way Dariax’ voice sounded when it lilted “Man, you have the prettiest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen” the last time they were drunk.

It seems weirdly typical and ridiculous that Dorian has to have his first crush on the most chaotic man he ever met.

Dorian wishes he could forget about those damn words, just like everything that happened in their first week.

“You know”, Orym says to him two nights after that cursed conversation as they’re making their way further south towards Byroden, “if you told them to stop in earnest, I think they would respect that.”

The landscape is a carpet of green, sloping hills, rolling fields that lie bare now that winter is closing in around them. The sky is blue and cloudless and as they talk their breath puffs up in front of their faces and vanishes shortly after.

Dorian looks at Orym and then pointedly turns his gaze at Opal and Dariax, who started making a list of their findings regarding Dorian’s type.

“You sure?”, he says with one eyebrow raised.

Orym looks at least as pained as Dorian feels right now.

“I see your point. But they’re not—you know. Not bad people, I guess. I don’t think they want to hurt you.”

“Well, they’re not hurting me, they’re annoying me to death!”

Orym pats him on the back in a way that is so pitiful, Dorian can hardly take it.

“I wouldn’t usually encourage lying, but maybe you could just make up a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or—“

“What if I just tell them that you’re my type”, Dorian interrupts and Orym blinks at him.

“Uh—“

“No offense, you’re not. Not that you’re not handsome or anything, I just. Well—“

“It’s fine”, Orym says with a snort and shakes his head with a disbelieving smile. “You don’t have to fuss about it. You’re also very handsome but not my type.”

Dorian tries not to be offended after the last kick to his ego in Gilmore’s shop and clears his throat.

“Okay, so. What about it? Will you be my—I don’t know. My fake boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Orym, I’m desperate here!”

“I will not be swept up in all of that. I still think you should just try to talk to them.”

Dorian feels betrayed and huffs, but he doesn’t press the issue any further. It’s probably going to be fine, he thinks. That is, until Dariax walks up to him, grins up at him cheekily and bumps his elbow into Dorian’s side.

“So. Are you finally ready to admit it?”, Dariax asks.

There is a glint in his eyes that Dorian can’t quite read.

“Admit what?”, he asks, already dreading the answer.

“That you have the hots for Orym!”

Dorian stares down at Dariax, the man he, so, so very unfortunately has “the hots for” and sighs deeply.

“You caught me”, he says with a gravelly voice. “I have the hots for Orym.”

“I knew it!”, Dariax shouts, then catches himself and turns his voice into a whisper instead. “I fucking knew it!”

Dorian massages his temple.

Maybe becoming an adventurer was a terrible idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. He could make a name for himself somewhere else. The Menagerie coast is supposed to be lovely all year around.

“Okay, don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha. I’ll keep your secret, won’t even tell the girls at all. And you know what, because we’re such great friends I have a special offer just for you”, Dariax says and leans in even closer to Dorian, who has to lean down significantly.

“And what offer is that?”, Dorian asks with a sigh, resigning himself to his fate. At least Orym knows that Dorian isn’t actually attracted to him, so, he thinks, this can’t possibly get any worse.

“I should totally be your fake boyfriend so you can make him jealous.”

Dorian stares at Dariax.

Dariax stares back with the proudest grin on his handsome face.

The universe is trying to punish him. For whatever reason, it must have decided to make Dorian the butt of a cosmic joke. That’s the only explanation for all of this.

“I don’t think that’s—“

“It’s perfect! Don’t worry, I have experience with this sort of stuff, just lemme handle this.”

Dariax winks at Dorian and then grabs his hand to intertwine their fingers.

“Hey guys”, he calls as he pulls Dorian along who follows helplessly, his heart stumbling in his chest as his consciousness zooms in on the feeling of Dariax’ hand in his, “guess what. I should’ve clocked it all along, but of course it makes perfect sense! Check it out!”

And as Orym, Opal and Fearne turn their heads, Dariax raises their intertwined fingers and beams at the others.

“Wait…”, Orym starts slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion, “what…?”

“Too late, Orym. He’s my boyfriend now”, Dariax says and Dorian wishes that the wind would just pick him up and carry him away.

Dorian has to say something.

He can’t, under any circumstances, keep this up.

He is sitting—and gods, his heart is beating so terribly fast—on Dariax’ lap.

Dariax had insisted on it and now his muscular arms are wound around Dorian’s waist as if this is the most normal thing in the world. For someone who doesn’t actually have to breathe to survive, Dorian feels a little bit like he’s suffocating from the staccato inside his rib cage.

They made camp close to a rock formation that, according to Fearne, looks like a pig with wings. The night smells of snow, but Dorian feels hot despite the cold.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He knows it even less when Dariax’ hand finds one of his and just casually starts rubbing circles into the back of his hand with a thumb. Dorian can feel Orym’s eyes on them and sadly that edges Dariax on even more because he thinks his plan is working.

“You know”, Dariax says and sounds way too casual about it, “I can’t believe how lucky I got. Pretty sure you’re the most beautiful person I’ve been with so far, Dorian.”

“I—uh”, Dorian says, then somehow forgets how to speak. His cheeks feel incredibly hot even though he doesn’t sit remotely close to the fire.

Orym cocks his head and suddenly his eyes turn a little too wide for Dorian’s tastes.

Dorian doesn’t want anyone to understand anything about this disaster.

“Well, I would certainly love a boyfriend who tells me nice things like that”, Opal sighs dreamily. “Or—you know. Maybe a girlfriend. Who knows. I certainly don’t.”

She laughs a little too shrilly but Dorian doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about it anymore because a tingling sensation is running through his body and crawling along the underside of his skin as Dariax’ fingers just keep on gently, way too gently, drawing nonsensical symbols and circles on Dorian’s hand.

“Well, I just know what’s good. I make a great boyfriend”, Dariax announces with a smug undertone to his voice. The sad thing is that Dorian can’t even disagree.

So far, Dariax has been nothing but—well. There is no other word for it. Gentle and accommodating. He also started flirting with Dorian and his flirting only ever got tasteless twice during the last twenty-four hours.

He has offered to carry stuff for Dorian, held his hand, given him way too many compliments for Dorian’s poor heart to handle, helped him climb over some rocks and purposefully took a hit for Dorian in combat earlier today while shouting “Not my boyfriend, you ash-hole!”.

If someone had told him that Dariax makes good boyfriend material, Dorian would have scoffed at them.

But now.

Well.

Now he’s in even deeper shit, because this doesn’t help his feelings at all. It does the exact opposite of helping.

Gods, Dorian wishes he could kiss him.

“Well, I am certainly—uh. Happy? For you two”, Orym says with a pointed look at Dorian. Dorian tries to tell Orym that this wasn’t his idea with his eyes alone, that this is the worst, that Dorian definitely needs saving, but he doesn’t think anything gets across because the moment that Orym says that and looks at Dorian, Dariax seems to decide that he can’t have Orym looking at Dorian like that.

Dorian makes an embarrassing screeching sound as he is dipped backwards on Dariax’ lap. There is a very handsome, dwarven face with glinting eyes right in front of his when he opens his eyes again.

“Just go along”, Dariax whispers and before Dorian can protest or even just try to catch up with what’s happening, there are dry, warm lips pressed against his mouth and Dariax is closing his eyes.

Dorian’s brain is blank for a few seconds, then it kicks into overdrive, much like his heart that seems eager to jump right out of his chest and into the campfire. Dorian can’t fault it, because he, too, would love to jump into the campfire, never to be seen again.

Dariax is holding him with one arm while his other hand is resting on Dorian’s cheeks where Dariax’ thumb starts rubbing circles again as he kisses Dorian.

Dorian wants to run away.

He wants to kiss back.

He wants this to be real.

Dariax doesn’t actually want to kiss him. He only does it because he’s pretending, there is nothing real about any of this, no matter how nice and exciting his warm lips feel against Dorian’s.

Dorian pushes him away, clambers up from his position, trying very hard not to fall as he stands up, and steps away from Dariax hastily.

“I—ah. I need to. Pee. Yes. Pee. I’ll be—uh. Later!”

And he walks as fast as he can without breaking into a run.

His lips are still burning after he stops walking without even seeing where he’s going. It’s dumb. All of this is so incredibly dumb.

Beautiful eyes, beautiful voice, beautiful person.

Dariax really has to stop saying these things.

It’s already enough that Dorian developed this stupid crush after such a short amount of time on the road. It’s stupid that it had to be Dariax of all people—couldn’t it have been someone reasonable? Like Orym?

Couldn’t it just have been no one? Or a nice, noble lady that he impressed with his songs and good looks?

No.

He’s standing in the middle of nowhere, his heart beating rapidly in his chest with no clue where he even is or what he’s doing. The trees around him are leafless and bare, stretching towards the dark sky like skeletal silhouettes. Dorian doesn't know what to do.

Dariax kissed him.

He had his first kiss with a complete and utter maniac of a person. His lips are still tingling and gods, he wants to kiss him again and again and again—

“Dorian! Doriaaan!”

Dorian turns around and wipes at his face that feels weirdly wet.

Gods, he hates everything and everyone right now.

Dariax comes to a halt in front of him, his breath coming quickly and holding his compass rose.

“Okay—wow. Your legs. Are so. Long. You’re so. Fucking fast”, Dariax huffs and puts his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

Dorian looks at him and can’t decide whether he wants to kick Dariax in the shin or just run away further.

“So, uh—sorry. I got a little carried away and I kinda—uh. It was brought to my attention that it wasn’t very cool of me to just kiss you without asking if that’s okay with you. So—uh. Really sorry about that, shoulda thought about that before I—uh. You know.”

Dariax scratches the back of his head as he looks down at Dorian’s left knee.

“It’s—well. Yeah, I suppose a little warning would have been nice. It’s—uh.”

Dorian stops and wipes at his face again and when he looks back up Dariax is studying him, his gaze intense and uncharacteristically serious.

“Wait—wait a second. Was that your first kiss?”

“No! I mean. Yes! Sort of! Maybe!”

Dariax gapes and Dorian wishes the earth could swallow him up whole.

“Oh fuck, buddy, man, that’s. I’m really sorry, I didn’t—damn. I really fucked that one up, huh?”

Dariax looks so earnestly mortified at what he’s done that Dorian can already feel how he’s forgiving him, how he finds it endearing, how his heart swells in his chest like the idiot that it is.

“It’s not such a big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just—uh. Maybe we should talk about all of this stuff before… you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally. I swear I’m usually not a creep or anything, it was just… you know. The heat of the moment, or something. So…”

Dariax is scratching the back of his head again and swallows before he shoots Dorian a lopsided grin.

“So. No kissing and stuff like that, huh? Just the hand-holding? Hey, maybe a hug or something?”

Dorian stares at him and he could swear that Dariax’ cheeks are a little redder than before, which, Dorian supposes, comes from his embarrassment about his earlier fuck-up.

As long as they’re doing this fake-boyfriend gig, Dorian could kiss Dariax whenever he wants. Because apparently Dariax doesn’t mind that one little bit. He might never get the chance again to kiss him if he says no now.

So Dorian does something incredibly stupid and impulsive and maybe it’s even a real ash-hole move. In this tiny moment in time he decides to be selfish.

“Kissing is fine. Uh—you know. You’re not that bad at it, I guess”, he says and laughs which sounds terribly false in his own ears but Dariax perks up and throws him a reckless grin that makes Dorian’s heart stumble in his chest.

“Ha! You just wait for it, I’ll kiss your brains out before you know it!”

Dorian might be addicted.

He knows that this is all a ruse based on a misunderstanding but gods, kissing Dariax is so good.

And Dariax somehow makes it seem as if he’s just as into it as Dorian is, because he keeps kissing him all the time. Of course, it never happens when they’re alone and only when Orym is in more or less close proximity but if Dorian isn’t careful he’ll start believing that they’re actually boyfriends sooner than later.

Dariax is so good at pretending.

He kisses Dorian as if he never wants to kiss anyone else. He holds Dorian’s face in his hands as if it’s something precious. He kisses Dorian breathless and at more than one point Dorian had to stop him because he was getting a little too into it and he’s afraid of overstepping any boundaries.

Dariax promised that he would kiss Dorian’s brains out and it’s absolutely working. On the seventh day on their journey south they get so caught up in making out that they don’t realize that the others have gone to find a camping place for the night.

“We should—uh. Probably follow them”, Dorian croaks and stares down at Dariax’ lips.

“Hmhm. Yeah. Probably a good idea”, Dariax mumbles. Then he kisses Dorian again.

Dorian gets lost in the sensation of tongues sliding against one another and the feeling of Dariax’ hand cupping his cheeks. Dorian slides his hands into Dariax’ hair and buries his fingers in there, something that provokes a sound from Dariax. A sound that gives Dorian goosebumps all over his arms.

He wants to hear it again. He wants to touch more. He wants, he wants, he wants—

Dariax pulls back, his eyes glassy, his breathing labored.

“I—uh. Ha. I got a little carried away. Sorry. What do you say about checking where the others went?”

“Sure. Yeah. Great idea. Let’s go.”

He steps away from Dariax and stuffs his hands into his pockets to keep Dariax from reaching for them. This is a complete and utter disaster.

Dorian knows that he should stop it.

He shouldn’t abuse Dariax’ trust like this and keep up his pretense when all that Dariax wants is to help Dorian make Orym jealous.

Which has, of course, not worked in the slightest, but Dariax insists that it’s just because Orym is such a rational and level-headed guy.

“We just need to wear him thin, you know.”

Dorian doesn’t know.

He feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore.

When they finally reach the campsite, Fearne has placed her head in Opal’s lap and seems to be napping as Opal carefully braids her long, green hair.

“You guys alright?”, Orym asks with his eyebrows raised. Dorian feels himself flush and clear his throat.

“More than alright”, Dariax answers and winks. The implication makes Dorian’s cheeks heat up even more.

He didn’t think that Orym’s eyebrows could climb even higher, but that’s exactly what happens as he regards the two of them.

“Dorian, can I talk to you for a second?”, Orym asks and gets up from the log he was sitting on. Dorian shoots Dariax a glance and he seems… off.

Dariax doesn’t return Dorian’s look, he just walks over to the fire, lets himself fall down next to Opal and asks, way too loudly to be necessary “So what’s for dinner?”.

But Dorian doesn’t have any time to think more about this, because Orym grabs his wrist and pulls him towards a group of trees, away from the campfire and away from Dariax whose eyes seem to bore themselves into the back of Dorian’s head as he follows Orym into the night.

“What are you doing?”

Dorian doesn’t have to ask what Orym means. He wrings his hands and stares at the ground.

“I—uh. I don’t really... I don’t really know?”

“So when you said adventurous and brunette, what you actually meant was short, stocky and a complete disaster?”

“I—um...”

Orym looks at him with raised eyebrows and despite the fact that Dorian is so much taller than him he suddenly feels very small.

“Well. Dariax kind of got it into his head that I’m into you. Which I’m not.”

“Yes, we established that.”

“Exactly. And. Well, he thought it would be a good idea to be fake boyfriends to make you jealous.”

Orym’s eyebrows rise even higher towards his hairline.

“But I’m not jealous. Because you and I are just friends.”

“I know, okay? It just kinda got out of hand?He’s so—I don’t know! I don’t know what to do!”

Orym sighs and rubs his temples.

“So. You’re actually into Dariax?”, he asks.

Dorian presses his lips together and takes a deep breath before he nods.

“And he doesn’t know. He thinks you’re into me?”

Dorian nods again.

“And now he’s waiting for me to get jealous and for us two to be boyfriends?”

Dorian shrugs helplessly.

“Isn’t that... I don’t know. It seems like lying to him.”

“What do you want me to do? Just tell him that I have the hots for him and then leave the country forever?”, Dorian hisses.

“Well, maybe he has the hots for you, too!”, Orym whispers back and Dorian can’t help but laugh. It sounds a little hysterical.

“Then why would he offer to help me to get with you?”

Orym stares at Dorian for a full thirty seconds. Then he sighs.

“I guess it’s a little hard to... fathom... what goes on in Dariax’ head.”

“That seems like an understatement.”

Orym scoffs and shakes his head with half a smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you actually fell for—that.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. I guess to each their own.”

“So what’s your type then?”

“Uh—I don’t really have a type. I’m not into the whole relationship stuff. Or—uh. The sex stuff, for that matter.”

“Oh. Oh! I see. Well, that seems pretty convenient. Way less stressful than what I’m doing with my life.”

Orym smiles and shakes his head again.

“I’m not going to lie, when I’m watching you and Dariax or Opal and Fearne I am glad that I don’t have to deal with any of it”, Orym admits.

“Opal and Fearne? How do you mean?”, Dorian asks. His brain is still stuck on kissing Dariax without Orym even being in any close proximity. His whole brain capacity seems to be occupied by thinking about Dariax. It’s an absolute clusterfuck.

“Never mind. So, what do you intend to do? You can’t keep this up forever”, Orym says and pulls Dorian away from a trail of thoughts that was leading towards something explicit and utterly unbefitting of a talk with a good friend about feelings.

“I—uh. I’m still figuring it out. I’ll just. You know, I could just tell him that I’m not into you anymore and then he would probably stop”, Dorian says and ignores the uncomfortable tightness of his chest as he thinks about not being able to kiss Dariax anymore. Or hold his hand. Or being told that he’s beautiful.

He’s so fucked.

“I think you should just tell him, you know? We’re adventurers now, no one knows what might happen. If I learned anything from our Voice of the Tempest, it’s that you should do your best to live without any regrets, because time is a precious thing”, Orym says.

“A weird soup”, Dorian answers, his voice weak and his heart hurting. Orym snorts.

“Yes, sure. A weird, precious soup. Anyway. Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Something is up with Dariax.

Dorian has no idea what it is, but there is definitely something wrong.

He’s quieter than usual, which is disconcerting. He’s also, very definitely, holding onto Dorian’s hand way tighter than before.

“Hey, is everything alright?”, Dorian asks him quietly as they’re getting ready for the night. The sky overhead is dark and full of clouds and the moon is barely visible.

“Yeah, sure. Stellar”, Dariax says but he’s not looking at Dorian.

“You don’t look stellar”, Dorian insists and puts his hand on Dariax’ shoulder. Dariax’ eyes flicker down to his hand and then up to his face. Dariax opens his mouth to answer, but Dorian doesn’t hear anything because there is a searing pain on his back and he slumps forward and crumples onto his knees.

His vision goes blurry from the pain and he can feel that there is something coursing through his body. It hurts.

“Dorian? Dorian!”

Lying down seems like a great idea. What if he dies now and he didn’t even tell Dariax that he’s not into Orym? What if his adventure ends here already? He doesn’t want to sink into the weird soup that is time already. He wants…

“Take your hands off my boyfriend, you fuckers!”

“Hey! What’s going on?”

“Dorian, are you okay?”

He is definitely not okay and while he probably should have different priorities as he’s bleeding out in the grass, all he can think about is the fact that Dariax just called him his boyfriend.

“Dorian, are you okay?”, Dariax’ voice sounds muffled and far away.

“Heh. You’re really good at pretending”, he lulls as he’s turned onto his back to look up at Dariax’ face.

“What? Guys, I think he has a concussion or something!”

“Well, heal him!”

“I’m trying! Dorian, hey! Buddy, don’t pass out on me, okay?”

“Did you know that your eyes are really pretty?”, Dorian slurs and he wants to raise a hand to touch Dariax’ face that seems way too red all of a sudden, but he can’t move a muscle and as he feels Dariax’ warm healing magic flow into him, he passes out from the mind-numbing pain.

Dorian has never shared a bed with anyone. Neither in a platonic nor in a romantic or sexual way.

When he wakes up there is someone plastered to his side. The quiet snoring tells him that it must be Dariax.

“Are you okay, Dorian?”, Fearne’s soft voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to see her sit on his other side, her hand places closed to his shoulder as if to make sure that he’s within reach.

“Uh—ow. Yeah. What happened?”

Dorian tries to concentrate on his own body and on Fearne’s words, but he’s distracted by the feeling of Dariax sleeping so close to him. His arm is thrown over Dorian’s chest and his face is pressed into Dorian’s shoulder. Orym is nowhere to be seen.

“Those Nameless Ones seem to have a pretty far reach. They really want that spider crown.”

Dorian groans as he tries to move.

“They hit me with poison or something?”

“Yeah. Dariax fixed it. Then he insisted on carrying you back to the cart. Then he insisted to tuck you into bed. And then he just sort of flopped down next to you and stared at you really intensely until he passed out.”

Dorian tries to laugh but almost chokes on it as he imagines this short man trying to carry someone as tall as Dorian. His thoughts circle around the fact that Dariax cared for him, healed him, tucked him into bed.

“So. Ah—where are Orym and Opal?”, he asks to distract himself from the feeling of having Dariax pressed so close to him.

“They’re checking to see if we’ll be safe for the night. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Fearne smiles down at him and starts scratching Little Mister under the chin as she hums a melody that Dorian’s never heard before.

“Did you ever have a really dumb crush?”, he asks before he can stop himself. Fearne turns her head to look at him again and cocks her head.

“A crush that was dumb because it wasn’t mutual or a crush that was dumb because the person was dumb?”, she wants to know.

“Ah. Huh—I haven’t thought about it that way. I guess… how about we go with both?”

Fearne puts her index fingers to her lips and cocks her head from side to side as she thinks about it.

“Well, I don’t think crushes are dumb just because they aren’t mutual. And I also think that Opal is very intelligent in her own, special way.”

Dorian blinks.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“You have a crush on Opal?”

“Sure. I thought it was pretty obvious”, Fearne says and smiles dreamily.

“Uh—maybe. Now that you mention it, I think Orym clocked it.”

“She is just. You know. Very exciting and spontaneous and funny and creative and pretty.”

The way that Fearne just talks about her crush makes Dorian wonder why he isn’t able to just say it like this. That he likes Dariax because he’s funny and brave and adventurous and a complete idiot in a lovable kind of way.

“What do you like about Dariax?”, Fearne wants to know.

“Uh—well”, he laughs nervously and clears his throat. Dariax is still softly snoring into his shoulder. “I guess… I guess pretty much everything?”

“That’s so sweet! And that’s what he said too. You guys just fit so well”, Fearne says with an earnest smile.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said that you guys fit really well.”

“No. No, I meant before that.”

“Uh—well, when I asked him what he liked most about you, he also said that he likes everything about you. I thought it was really sweet, you know? There was a whole list of things, but he stopped midway through it and said ‘So basically, everything’.”

There was a whole list of things.

A list.

“So basically, everything.”

“Dorian? Are you really okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Hm? Oh—yeah. I’m fine. Perfect. Peachy. Never better.”

He laughs nervously and glances over at Dariax as his insides dissolve into small, hyperactive butterflies. Maybe it’s not what he thinks. Maybe Dariax meant that he likes everything about Dorian as a friend.

“If you’re sure you’re okay I think I’ll stretch my legs a little bit. This cart is pretty small”, Fearne says and scoots towards the exit of the cart. Little Mister follows behind her and a moment later Dorian is alone with a snoring Dariax, whose hand has somehow managed to sneak under Dorian’s shirt.

What is he supposed to do now?

Wake Dariax up? Confess his feelings?

His heart beats so quickly that Dorian is almost afraid that it might just leap out of his rib cage. In the end he’s not brave enough to wake Dariax up and instead intertwines their fingers and turns his head to look at Dariax who has definitely drooled onto his shirt.

He knows that he’s completely fucked because he thinks that this is endearing.

Dorian raises his arm and gently cards his hand through Dariax’ hair.

Dariax makes a small sound in his sleep, something that sounds like a content sigh, and the butterflies in Dorian’s stomach start dancing happily.

“D’you really think my eyes are pretty?”, Dariax mumbles a second later and Dorian pulls his hand away hastily as Dariax’ eyes open.

“Um—well. Yeah. They’re… they have a very nice color”, Dorian croaks. Dariax pulls his hand out from under Dorian’s shirt and starts rubbing at his eyes.

“You okay again?”

“Yeah. Thank you for saving me. And carrying me to the cart. And—uh. Tucking me in.”

Dariax’ cheeks redden as he coughs slightly before sitting up.

“Well, you know. It’s what boyfriends are for, right?”, Dariax says with half a laugh in his voice that doesn’t sound completely genuine.

Dorian swallows and bites his bottom lip as he tries to find the words. He’s usually not bad at talking, so why does this seem so endlessly hard?

“So—uh. I have something to confess”, he starts as his thoughts start spinning around in panicked circles. Dariax turns his head to look down at him.

“I know, I know”, he answers.

“Huh?”

“Well, I figured, you know. When Orym dragged you away I thought you guys probably had a talk?”

“We did, yeah”, Dorian says but he is endlessly confused about what that has to do with anything.

“See, I knew it. So you think it finally started working, huh? Told you, I’m really good at this kind of stuff.”

Dorian decides that he has to sit up for this. His head is spinning and his heart is racing and he is endlessly confused about what in the ever-loving hell is going on.

“Working? What are you talking about?”

“You know, the jealousy thing.”

Dorian stares at him.

Then it finally clicks.

“Dariax… I don’t want to be fake boyfriends anymore”, he says quietly before he can think of a better way to say it. Dariax’ expression twists and he looks away, his hand reaching for the back of his head to scratch at his scalp—a sign for nervousness, as Dorian knows by now.

“Yeah. Okay. I—uh. That’s—“

“I want to be your real boyfriend.”

Dariax blinks a few times. Then his face turns the deepest shade of red that Dorian has ever seen on him.

“You—what?”

“I don’t like Orym. I never have. Not like that. I—uh. I like you. And when—if—I kiss you again I don’t want it to be just pretend, I want to really kiss you. Because I—uh. I really like kissing you.”

Dariax is still staring at him, seemingly stunned. The hand at the back of his head has stopped moving and started to sink slowly back into Dariax’ lap.

“So…”, Dorian says and the nervous energy humming under his skin is almost unbearable, “can I? Can I… kiss you? For real?”

If Dariax doesn’t say anything soon Dorian might have to flee from the cart and actually leave the country. The suspense is torturous, his words hang heavy in the air between them. And then, faster than Dorian can react, Dariax lounges himself at Dorian and kisses him so passionately that Dorian can’t suppress the moan that escapes him.

Dariax pushes at him, shoves Dorian back down onto the bedroll, sinks one hand into Dorian’s long hair and cups his face with the other.

Dorian’s brain goes blank as he arches up against Dariax’ weight on top of him.

“So, is that a yes?”, he pants into the kiss.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes”, Dariax rasps and kisses him again. “Gods, you’re so pretty. I thought I was going to go insane.”

Dorian makes a very embarrassing noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Maybe he likes those compliments more than a normal person would.

“So you like me?”

“Are you kidding me? So fucking much.”

Dariax is kissing his whole face now and Dorian wraps his arms around him. He feels light as a feather and the butterflies in his stomach have gone completely off the rails.

“Are you guys decent?”, Opal shouts from outside the cart.

“No! Go away! I want to make out with my boyfriend!”, Dariax shouts back and Dorian laughs.

“Don’t leave any icky spots though!”, Opal says.

“Oh, come on”, Dorian hears Orym protest.

“That’s what Prestidigitation is for, Opal! Read a book about magic!”, Dariax announces loudly and Dorian has no time to protest this obscene exchange because Dariax is kissing him again and Orym seems to be dragging Opal away from the cart.

“So do you know what that means?”, Dorian mumbles against Dariax’ lips.

“Hm?”

“I don’t need any flirting lessons from you after all.”

#critfic #exandria unlimited #exu #exu fic #dorian storm #dariax zaveon #fanfiction #mi writes #critical role #doriax #text #screeching into the void #this is 7k words of chaotic fake dating ooops

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akitokihojo · 3 years ago

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Monster - Chapter 15

chapter index

..... sorry guys

She’d been having strange, ominous dreams for days now. Dreams that were so vague, Kagome could barely describe them to Inuyasha once she’d come out of it. He’d said she seemed uncomfortable in her sleep, woke her up once or twice to see if she was having a nightmare, but the moment Kagome roused, it was like the pressing vision faded. She recalled bits and pieces, but she couldn’t remember the emotion present, she couldn’t remember what was happening, and she wasn’t even sure if she knew what was going on while in the dream to begin with.

All she could remember was red.

Everything was in red.

Her hands were red.

The sky was red.

The world was red.

And, waking up to see natural colors, to see the light shade of Inuyasha’s tied back hair, to see his golden eyes reflected with the humble flames of their midnight fire was almost like a shock.

She’d blink, she’d take deep breaths that she wasn’t able to while captured by the vivid nightmare, and after just a few moments, Kagome would come down and forget anything that wasn’t red. She was fine. She’d fall back asleep just fine, and unless she was dragged right back into the vision - which had only occurred once - she’d rest well, thereafter.

Kagome had reduced it to nothing more than an odd string of subconscious play. They were dreams without a meaning. Only a couple of times had they really stolen any energy from her, but other than that, Kagome dismissed what she couldn’t remember and apologized for worrying Inuyasha.

The hanyou chose a high tree branch to perch in one night. Something was off, he could physically feel it, but there was nothing in the air that could guide him to what stung at his instincts. He’d covered Kagome in his crimson robe, and she’d been curled up on her bag as a makeshift pillow, undisturbed and about as comfortable as she could get. Not a single line creased her brow, and her lips were relaxed as she slept through the night, the hoot of owls, the chirp of crickets, and the crack of burning logs the only sounds that stood the potential of waking her. But still, Inuyasha couldn’t shake this feeling. Something was wrong.

There was a sharp twinge of dread hitting his chest, so he stood from his seat, trying to get a better eye over the tops of trees to hopefully spot something. Nothing. There was a scent, but he couldn’t place it. There wasn’t noise to back it up. He heard no yelling, no conversation, no roars, or calls, or even the crack of twigs being broken from the weight of bodies stepping over them. In fact, with this sensation of apprehensiveness hanging over him, the silence was only making it worse.

Below him, there was a small shuffle from Kagome and immediately his eyes fell down to her. She’d merely readjusted herself, laying more on her back now than her side. Her cheek hit her shoulder, one arm was at her hip, and the other rested over her stomach - his robe only managing to cover her belly and down now. Taking a moment to observe her carefully, he gathered the steady rise and fall of her chest. Everything seemed to be as it should. She was fine. So, steadily, his attention shifted back out to the horizon of the forest they dwelled in.

That aroma. He knew it. It was coming closer, and the nearer it grew, the more powerful it became. At this point, it was all a matter of patience. With the direction his body faced, the scent was coming from his right. It smelled of the woodlands and an extremely subtle campfire that he could have easily dismissed as his own immediate surroundings. The only thing that tipped him off was the staleness of the fragrance. It was old, it was laced with an abundance of sweat, and just as he caught the startling odor of that monster appear, the metallic smell of blood singed at his nose.

Kagome opened her eyes, feeling her feet on the hard, packed dirt of the forest. There were whispers around her, but she couldn’t tell what direction they were coming from, feeling incoherent, even dizzy where she stood. She stared at the setting, again shrouded in a haze of red, but everything was so blurry. No matter how many times she blinked, nothing would focus. The world was spinning around her, growing deeper in shade, bringing Kagome to feel nauseous and slap the heels of her hands around her temples to silence the blaring headache that slammed into her out of nowhere.

Her feet stumbled backward, unable to keep her footing, not knowing left from right, up from down, and her back hit the rough bark of a large tree, scraping as she inadvertently slid down to a squat. That was where she was safe from falling, safe to keep her eyes squeezed shut.

Where was she? This time, she was in her own body, she could tell. With a little wiggle of her ankle in her boot, Kagome felt the shape of her father’s blade rub against her, she felt the top beneath her shirt that kept her chest secure with each heavy inhale that pressed her ribs outward, she heard her own voice as she grunted shakily from the bile that threatened her esophagus. Why? What had she done? Where was Inuyasha? Where was she?

The whispers were beginning to reach her ears more clearly now. Kagome could feel the nausea gradually passing. Her fingers still trembled, but they were steadying little-by-little with each focused breath she exhaled. Again, she blinked her eyes open, noticing that now her surroundings were more centered. But, why, why was everything red again?

It felt like looking through stained glass. Every direction she turned was hued all the same. No greens, no browns, no blues, or violets, but the shadows of the night still remained black, terrifying, menacing in this particular environment.

The voices were no longer whispers. They were clear. Two women. From somewhere behind her. Kagome pushed herself from the tree, appreciative to have her own mobility this time around. She moved carefully, watching her step, walking as lightly as possible so as not to give her position away.

“Don’t take me back to him.” One said demandingly. The voice was deep, weighted, muttered between alarming breaths. “I don’t want to die in his arms.”

“I only need your blood. While it’s warm.” This voice was stable, somber.

“Don’t come near me!”

“Look, I didn’t want to do this! I had no choice! I’m telling you he didn’t request for your body; he just wants your blood!”

“For what!?”

“Proof!”

“No!” She sobbed. Kagome recognized that waver, that desperation. She’d known it all along, but had been too in denial to accept that this may be a possibility. Kikyo.

It was Kikyo.

Heedless with her movements now, Kagome rushed through the trees to close the distance, physically stopped by a forcefield that felt to grasp her and hold her captive as soon as she turned the corner and caught sight of the actual scene. It felt as if invisible vines had wrapped around her body, gluing her arms to her sides, immobilizing her and wrapping around her mouth so she couldn’t make a sound - forced to watch but not allowed to interact.

Kikyo was on the floor, trying to sit up against the trunk of a tree, bleeding profusely from her shoulder and chest, covered in sweat and crimson and tears. Her large, beige blouse was sullied horribly, drenched, clinging to her thin frame as if to emphasize her life-threatening wounds.

“Kikyo, I have to! He’ll kill me if I don’t!” She was a tall woman. Beautiful. But, her eyes radiated fear. Her skin was peached, complimented by the moonlight, her short, brown hair tied half up, though strands had escaped to fall down by her cheeks in their charade. Her lips had been painted with a dark rouge, faded but stained.

“I’m not going to survive this! Is that not enough!?”

Kagome tried to scream, to fight, to let this woman know she had a new opponent to take on, to let Kikyo know help was here and she’d be okay, but she couldn’t do a thing. This felt like more than restraints now. She felt like she was under a spell. Or, that maybe she wasn’t even actually there, merely watching on through a red-tinted window. Neither of them had acknowledged her loud footsteps approaching before she’d been caught, neither of them had turned to see her as she ran into the narrow clearing. Even if she was being held at bay right now, the enemy should have at least noticed her.

Quickly, she’d deduced that this was Kikyo’s dark magic at play. And, for the first time, she wished she knew at least a little so that she could subdue the opposite conjurer’s and stand a chance at saving her.

“It’s not! I’m sorry! You know him as well as I do, you know it isn’t enough for him!”

“You’re his creation! You’re practically his child! Don’t act like you pity me! That only makes you appear more vile!”

“You think I care how vile I look right now!?” The enemy snapped, screaming brokenly. “I had no choice, Kikyo! He’s got a little girl in captivity! If I die, what chance does she stand!? I am the only thing protecting her right now, so if it’s between you and me, I choose me! Do not mistake my obedience as admiration for that monster! I hate him! I loathe him! Naraku is the bane of my existence, and I wholeheartedly wished for you to kill him! He knew you were weak, though! He made the call! He sent me alone, because he knew with that little girl’s well being on the line, I wouldn’t come back without my objective complete!

“I do pity you, conjurer. You deserved better. And, I’m sorry I had to do this. Now, I’ll ask again: May I take your blood while it is still warm? Or, must I force it?”

“I hate him! I hate him! I hate him! I hate him. I hate - I hate him.” Kikyo had shattered. Her strong demeanor crumbled into little pieces on the earth, her blood slowly beginning to pool at her seat. The powerful confession shifted to one of saddened pleads, and she wept. She trembled and she wept. “I - I hate him. I hate… I hate…”

The demon respectfully kneeled down, taking the presumably white feather from the bun in her hair and bowing her head an inch. “I am sorry.”

“You promise not to take my body?”

“I swear to you, I will leave it here.”

“You won’t tell him where you left me?”

“If he asks, I will have no choice but to say. But, knowing Naraku, he won’t have the courage to face you. Dead or alive.”

“This is the end?”

“Unlike me, you are free now, Kikyo. Be free.”

“Take my blood. See this through. Protect the girl.”

The woman dipped her feather in the gaping wound of Kikyo’s shoulder, dousing the ends in the thick liquid that seeped out at an unforgiving rate.

“Go.” Kikyo ordered. “I wish to at least be in peace.”

Without another word, the demon nodded, rising to her feet. She didn’t bother to brush the dirt from her black dress before using her powers to create a large feather to fly off on, a powerful gust of wind taking the woman up into the sky to disappear over the treetops.

Within seconds, the world was back to normal. The stained glass had been smashed, and Kagome was looking at the setting in the normal hues their luna provided. The vines had released her so aggressively that she was nearly dropped to the floor, stumbling on her feet and to her butt as she failed to catch herself. But, she wasn’t thrusted back into the reality she’d expected to be. This wasn’t a dream. Ahead of her sat a crumpled Kikyo, trying to hold herself up as she grew weaker and weaker, more and more pale, pained, melancholic, and destroyed.

Scrambling, Kagome crawled as far as she could before she forced herself to her feet to hurry over to the conjurer. Her emotions were all over the place, like she didn’t know what to feel first, if anything at all. Panicked, horrified, angry, anxious, helpless, and they all got in the way of her nonexistent action plan.

“Wh-what? What?” Was all Kagome could stammer. Was she really here? Was this really happening? “Kikyo, you’re… what happened? I don’t -“

“I’m sorry.” Kikyo cried, breathing erratically in the hopes to swallow her own fear. “I couldn’t fight anymore. I just couldn’t fight anymore.”

“Where are you hurt!? What happened!?” Kagome frantically implored, trying to be gentle at first. It was too difficult to see in the night, and there was an awful amount of blood that made it impossible to avoid. It was terrifying, but with a swallow that Kagome forced down her throat, she grabbed Kikyo’s shirt and ripped the buttons apart, looking for the wounds to see what she could do.

The gashes were massive in comparison to her frame. They stretched from her right shoulder to the center of her chest, wide, like cracks in a carefully sculpted clay pot that could no longer contain the contents inside. It brought Kagome to gasp so horridly she choked, coughed, quaked with trepidation.

“I couldn’t fight anymore.” Kikyo repeatedly sullenly. “I’m so sorry, Kagome.”

“You’d been trying to get my attention.” Kagome said in realization, her voice low, broken, her brown eyes never leaving the large wound on Kikyo’s chest. “You needed my help.”

“No, you were too far. I had to find myself closer.”

“You needed me. You were trying - and - and I - you needed my help.” Kagome began to cry, the tears burning at her eyes as they fell to mix with the blood.

“There was no saving me.”

“I could have done - you needed me.”

“I needed you to heed my warning.”

“What - what warning?”

Kikyo took her stained hand, mustering as much energy as she could to softly brush Kagome’s cheek and pull her attention away from the ghastly wound. “That I’m out of picture now. That the responsibility is yours.”

“No.” Kagome’s bottom lip quivered as the words penetrated her mind. She didn’t want to allow them to ring with validity. This wasn’t reality. “No. No, no, no. That’s not true.” She shook her head, softly pressing on the worst portion of the wound and gradually applying more pressure. Kikyo grunted loudly from the pain it added, but didn’t move to stop Kagome as she tried to halt the bleeding. “I can still save you! Inuyasha - he can - I’ll go get Inuyasha! I’ll have him bring my bag so we can patch you up! We’ll take you to a healer! You’re still here, Kikyo! You can still live!”

“Kagome!” She cried. “It’s over! You know as well as I that there is no closing up this wound! I’ve lost too much blood as it is! Please! Just -“ Her voice died down some, gurgled slightly as she coughed and blood rose out of the corner of her mouth.

Kagome moved to sit her up some so she wouldn’t choke on it, putting all of her muscle into pulling Kikyo into her arms to support her body weight.

“I am not afraid of death.” Kikyo whispered as the blood trickled from her lips. “I’ve been dead for years as it is. I don’t have to run anymore. I don’t have to hide or - or fight. I’m tired, I’m so tired. Naraku cannot haunt me anymore if I die.” She smiled. And, Kagome clung to her tighter, trying to stifle her sobs.

“Yeah,” Kikyo breathed, almost happily. “He can’t haunt me anymore. He didn’t win. He merely released me.”

“I’m sorry.” Kagome wept, losing the battle against herself. “If I had figured it out sooner -“

“No, Kagome. I wasn’t asking for help. I needed you to - I needed you to know. I wasn’t running to you to seek your assistance. I showed you bits and pieces only to test how far I still was. It was like a map that guided me your way. I needed to show you, myself. I’ve done all I can. The rest - the rest is on you. And, I truly believe you are capable.”

“I can - I can go get Inuyasha.” Kagome offered again, fruitlessly. It felt wrong to give up, it felt wrong to accept this fate, but she could feel in her gut, in her heart, in her brain that there was nothing she could actually do to fix this. To save her.

“Please, no.” Kikyo breathed. “I don’t want to die alone. If it’s not too much to ask, stay with me. Stay with me, Kagome. Speak of beautiful things.”

“Okay.” Kagome agreed, hugging the conjurer a little closer. She tried to stabilize her breathing, but her heart was breaking. She shook and she gasped, sobbing over Kikyo, but no matter what, she was going to tell her everything wonderful in this world that she’d seen. Everything that had nothing to do with Naraku. Kikyo wouldn’t end her life with that horrible creature tainting her final thoughts, her final breath, the final beat of her heart. Kikyo was going to leave this realm in serenity. “I-I’ve never seen so many flowers as I have since leaving home. Most of the flowers in my area are weeds, or dandelions. Some roses, maybe. Tulips are so pretty. And, I really, really love night flowers. The ones that bloom under the moon. I - I don’t know what they’re called.”

Kikyo smiled, unbothered by the pause Kagome had to take to breath, to calm herself, to allow tears to fall so they didn’t hinder her sight. She reached up, carefully stroking tears from Kagome’s cheeks, apologetic for the blood she stained her skin with in its place.

“A few days ago, I saw a bear cub for the first time. It was so cute, but I think that’s the most scared I’ve ever seen Inuyasha.” Kagome giggled wetly. “Where there’s a cub, there’s a mama. He backed off the trail so fast, Kikyo.”

Even the dying conjurer laughed. “You and he.” She spoke, her voice raspy and weak. “Your chemistry is strong. You make a good team. I was entirely wrong.”

“I love him. And, I’m really glad I didn’t listen to you.” Kagome cried, her smile wavering.

“If that’s the case, then so am I.” She wept. “Not all love is bad.”

“No.” Kagome shook her head, searching for anything she could speak of to bring Kikyo’s smile back. “Kaede. Kaede, she’s - she’s incredible.”

“My sister?” Kikyo asked, her eyes large and hopeful, brimming with tears that streamed down her face.

With a nod, she continued. “She’s headstrong, and brilliant, and a quick thinker, and I’ve never seen a woman bully so many men and put them in their place before. It’s inspirational.”

Kikyo giggled. “Tell me more about her.”

“You’d be so proud of her. The texts about - about enchantments that she got while you two were still together, she never stopped learning them.”

“She didn’t?” Kikyo inquired with astonishment.

Kagome shook her head in reply. “No, and she helps so many with what she can do. People like us, and like Inuyasha. Those who deserve a chance, who haven’t done wrong to deserve the hands they’ve been dealt. She sets up these - these deterrents around her village and it wards demons away from scents they may be tracking, and she has special rooms designated for those on the run. Kaede’s a savior. The first time I met her, I was sick. I used too much strength and hurt myself, so Inuyasha took me to her. She had some remedies at the ready and took such good care of me. She’s sweet, Kikyo. Kaede’s a good person. She’s such a good person.”

Kikyo was reduced to sobs, but the sadness was of her own regret. Of how she couldn’t have witnessed this for herself. Overpowering that was her happiness. Kaede was healthy. She was fighting for something. She wasn’t this frail girl that hid behind people, but in fact was the person others stood behind instead.

“You’ll also enjoy that she constantly puts Inuyasha in his place.”

“I thought they were friends.”

“They are.” Kagome giggled. “But, she’s a take-no-shit kind of woman, particularly with the opposite gender, I’ve noticed. It doesn’t seem to matter who you are, if you step out of line, she’ll be the first to remind you to back up.”

“She’s always been like that. I’m so happy to see that it hasn’t gotten her into any trouble. I was always worried about that.”

“No, Kaede holds her own just fine.”

“I am. I am proud of her.” Kikyo confirmed quietly.

“I think she’d be proud of you, too.” Kagome whispered.

Kikyo trembled as she cried.

“I think she’d be unbearably proud, Kikyo. And, I think she’ll understand everything better than you think.”

“Does she know yet? About our last discussion?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Please - please tell her I love her. Add that in. Tell her I said I’ll meet her under the willow tree.”

“The willow tree?” Kagome’s voice cracked as she clenched back her sob.

“In our - in our village growing up, there was a willow tree. We always sat beneath it.”

“I’ll tell her.” She promised, gently stroking the matted hair from Kikyo’s sweat-soaked cheeks. “I promise, I’ll tell her.”

“Thank you. Thank you so - thank…”

More blood was seeping from her mouth. Kagome was drenched in it. It was warm and thick, dressing her hands, her arms, stomach, and legs. Kikyo’s skin was ghostly white, and her eyes lost any vibrancy they held before. Every swallow could be seen as it went down harshly, her throat bobbing with the movements, and it was more like she was looking through Kagome now. Not at her.

“Shh, maybe you shouldn’t talk anymore.” Kagome hushed, stroking her hair. She spoke as her own mother would to her when she was emotional, when she was devastated; softly, soothingly, patiently. The world could wait for just one moment. Right now, it was just the two of them. That’s all. That was all they needed. Just for right now. “Everything’s okay now, Kikyo. You fought so well.”

Hot tears streamed from her eyes, and the dying conjurer looked up toward the sky. The moon was so big even though it was completely full just two days prior. It felt like a greeting from mother nature. A kind, forgiving smile from the goddess that held her hand out for her to take, her long, black hair swaying behind her feminine frame with the breeze.

“I’m s- I’m sorry.” Kikyo breathed brokenly.

“Don’t be.” She whispered in reply. “You did your best. We’re all so proud of you. Thank you, Kikyo. Thank you so much.”

Kagome continued her tender brushing, holding the woman closer to her so she could hopefully feel her own warmth. Kikyo was cold, was small, her hands unable to grasp onto Kagome’s shirt any longer.

“Everything’s okay.” Kagome repeated sadly, but sweetly. “You’re going to be okay now. You don’t have to fight anymore.”

Kikyo’s eyes fluttered closed.

Her breathing came evenly.

Slowly.

Not as it should.

“You don’t have to fight anymore. It’s okay now. It’s okay.” Kagome was sobbing, shaking, fading away.

Her grip on the woman was growing weaker, she could feel it slipping. With Kikyo’s life dwindling, so was the power she used to keep Kagome to her. Carefully, she set Kikyo down so she wouldn’t chance dropping her, continuing to pet her cheeks, whispering the same, kind statements over and over until she couldn’t physically feel her cold flesh beneath her fingers any longer.

There was a moment of pitch darkness. As she blinked her eyes opened, coming to consciousness, it seemed as if all sounds followed. The song of the crickets, the fire popping just feet away. Kagome was back in her camp, her head against the bag that served as a pillow where she’d fallen asleep just hours before.

It was a dream. It was just a dream.

A nightmare.

Either way, it wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been real. I couldn’t have been.

Slowly, timidly, Kagome moved her arms, instantly feeling the uncomfortable drench of her soddened clothing sticking to her skin. It caused her heart to pound inside her chest, it caused her panic to return, and as she lifted her hands above her face, she saw the blood that stained her skin.

“Inu - Inuyasha.” She couldn’t even call out for him, she was so terrified. Her voice came out small and broken, raspy, as if she’d been screaming for hours and this was the aftereffects. “Inuyasha. Where are you?”

He’d heard her from below, movement, but it wasn’t until he’d caught the desperate whisper of his name that his ears twitched in her direction and he looked down. She was slowly sitting up, looking at her hands, and he smelled blood. A lot of it. Instantly, he jumped down from the branch, landing on his feet so roughly that he stumbled forward but never stopped on his scramble to her side.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m right -“ He froze. He was right. The blood. She was covered in it. How? There wasn’t an inch of clean skin on her hands that he could see, her charcoal shirt sticking to her chest, her abdomen, stained with such a deep red that it had his stomach sinking at a drastic rate. Frantically, Inuyasha yanked his robe off of her lower body, looking to see if there was a source, only to find her legs and boots soaked, as well.

He couldn’t speak. A huge lump had formed in his throat from the fright he felt, and his gaze climbed up her body to find her large, weeping eyes.

It had taken a moment to push passed his initial dread in order to think rationally again, but he knew the smell of Kagome. He knew the smell of her blood. This wasn’t hers. This was the metallic odor he’d caught before. He smelled the familiar scent of a person he couldn’t pin, he smelled a horrible amount of blood, Naraku, and then within a split second, it was all gone. It had him further on edge than he’d been before, but he watched. He waited. All for nothing to rise again. He’d felt like he was in a simulation of sorts and he’d just witnessed a glitch in the system.

So, how the fuck was Kagome now soddened in the very same blood he’d just smelled moments before? She was asleep. She was safe. She was under his watch. Nothing could have gotten her, so how in the hell was she looking at him with finger streaks of blood painted on her cheeks that her tears didn’t even bother to clean?

“Kikyo.” Kagome sobbed, holding her hands out before her as if she was afraid to touch herself, or him, or anything in between. “It’s Kikyo. She’s - she’s dead.”

Kikyo.

That was who it was. He knew he’d caught it. It was only once that he’d met her though, so his olfactory system wasn’t familiar enough to have memorized it.

“What do you mean she’s dead, kid?”

“She’s dead.” Kagome repeated, unable to bite back any emotion. “I saw. I was there.”

“H-how?”

She presented her hands, her arms as if they were statement enough. “Her - her magic! It was one of Naraku’s underlings! They killed her! Inuyasha, they - they -“

He closed the gap, pulling her into his lap, holding her tight. He didn’t care about the blood, or the mess. He couldn’t just watch her shatter like that. Inuyasha didn’t understand the magical aspects that some people were capable of, and he’d come to terms with the fact that not everything could be comprehended by others who didn’t experience it firsthand. He didn’t need to understand. He just needed to listen. Kagome had witnessed Kikyo’s death. There was no possible way she could be lying about that while she sat there bathed in the opposite conjurer’s blood.

Kagome shook inconsolably, sobbed loudly, but she clung to Inuyasha with an unmatched urgency. The heaves that wracked her chest became painful, but it felt like no matter how tight she held onto him, she couldn’t feel her hanyou over the liquid that smeared her body. Kikyo was still out there. Her body was still on the ground. She was cold, and alone, and nobody deserved to be left like that after death. If she was able to pull Kagome next to her in such a physical manner, that meant she was close. Very close.

“Can you - can you find her?” Kagome asked Inuyasha between gasps of air.

“What do you mean?” He asked with a gentleness he rarely presented, using the backs of his knuckles to caress her cheek.

“She’s close. She had to be in order to perform that magic. Do you smell her?”

“I did. Before.” Inuyasha admitted. “You were asleep, and I caught her scent for literally a second before it disappeared. Minutes later, you’re waking up like this.”

“But, do you smell her now? She can’t create a barrier anymore.”

Apprehensively, he spoke. “I - I can’t smell anything over you.” And, as wrong as it felt to slide her from his lap and let her go - horribly, sickeningly wrong - he did so, rising to his feet. “Give me two seconds.”

Inuyasha jumped back up to the tree branch he’d occupied before, taking it a step further to go just a bit higher. The breeze should carry something his way. He really had to focus. His instincts were glued to Kagome, his brain only bringing the noises she made, the aroma off of her his way, and he’d had to mentally shove that aside in order to concentrate on their surroundings. The moment he’d caught the heavy scent of copper, Inuyasha locked on the direction they needed to head in, memorizing what he could. He knew the moment he jumped down to grab Kagome, it’d be hard to smell Kikyo out.

His feet hit the floor, and he quickly grabbed the conjurer’s hand. He hadn’t expected her to be on her feet, he hadn’t expected her to be able to run. She was so unsteady in his arms, he’d fully anticipated carrying her, but the woman had relatively pulled herself together so quickly. They left everything at their camp aside from their weapons, and she followed him as far as he could lead. For a while, she had to stay behind him, downwind from Inuyasha so that he could scout the path, reduced to walking now as they trekked through dark, shadowed trails they could barely see through.

It was vague, but there was a sense of familiarity that Kagome felt twinge in her stomach. She wanted to say she knew where they were, but she’d only seen it in red, so how could she be sure? Noticing some disturbed dirt next to a large tree, she reached for Inuyasha, clutching his shirt to stop him so she could crouch down and look without him going too far.

She’d been here. This was where she’d dropped down. This was where she’d almost puked. The disturbed dirt was where her boots had dug into the earth as she’d sunken and scratched her back on the bark of the tree. She did know where they were.

Kagome took off running, rushing in the direction she recalled from earlier, knowing they weren’t far at all.

And, then she abruptly halted. Her feet stopped worked. Her muscles jolted painfully, and her lungs clenched in her chest. The only thing she could feel was an icy sensation swarm over her and the pounding of her heart as it was being forced to slow.

Kikyo laid motionless in the exact position she’d left her in. The moon shined on her, but it illuminated no color except for the crimson Kagome didn’t want to see. There was no pink in her cheeks or on her lips where there should have been at least a slight hue. She was gone. Kikyo was gone. It was real. This hadn’t been a nightmare at all.

She forced herself to amble forward, her chin quivering as she grew nearer the corpse.

“Baby -“

“No. Don’t protect me right now.” Kagome said with a melancholic shake of her head. She’d already suffered through the worst of it. She’d already witnessed the death of someone she never saw falling. If she’d wanted security, a safety net, she would have never asked Inuyasha to find Kikyo’s whereabouts. She would have stayed in camp, continued clinging to him for dear life, closed her eyes and pretended it had never happened.

Inuyasha respected her wishes. He understood this feeling completely. Right now, Kagome didn’t need someone to stand behind, to shield her, but someone to stand directly beside her in support. He could do that. He would do that. If that was what she needed, it was already hers.

The conjurer stopped just a foot away from Kikyo, noticing the markings she’d left behind before she’d returned to reality. “This was - this was where I… I sat here.” Kagome admitted, feeling the hot tears brimming again as she glanced over her shoulder at Inuyasha. “I held her. While she - while she died. I told her about Kaede.”

“You held her?” The hanyou couldn’t help the sympathetic curve of his brow, or the frown that pushed at his lips.

She nodded, looking back at Kikyo’s body. “She didn’t want to be alone. She was just so happy to not have to be haunted by Naraku anymore.”

“Those dreams you’d been having. They’re connected aren’t they?”

“It was Kikyo. She was using our connection to find me. She wanted me to know what was happening first hand, but she needed to be closer.” Kagome found herself kneeling down at Kikyo’s side, feeling like the right thing to do was pick Kikyo right back up into her arms and continue comforting her, but she resisted. If she’d done that, there was a strong chance she wouldn’t have been able to put her down. “That means, she’d been running, and hiding, and doing everything she could to stay alive for days. What’s it been since the first vision? Four? Five?”

“Kagome, it’s not your fault.”

“She should have told me where she was. We could have helped her.” Though tears streamed from her eyes, she didn’t sound to be sobbing. Her tone was so sunken, so sad it was almost devoid of all emotion.

“But, she didn’t. That’s not on you. What did she tell you? She had to have given some sort of explanation.”

“She said she knew she wasn’t going to survive. That she just wanted me to know that - that she was gone. That she couldn’t fight anymore.” Kagome blinked away the sadness that refused to stop flowing through her eyes. Naraku didn’t win. He wasn’t allowed to even think he’d won. All he’d done was set her free. Much like Kikyo said, he’d released her. “I think it was Kagura. The woman that killed Kikyo. She was apologetic. Remorseful. And, she mentioned having no choice but to do this because she had a child’s safety to ensure. That means Sesshomaru’s family is still alive. They’re okay.”

“Don’t worry about that right now, kid.” Inuyasha sighed, sauntering over to kneel beside her. He didn’t like the way she looked right now, how she wouldn’t even glance at him anymore. Her eyes were dull and listless, drowning in grief. He wished she’d weep again. He wished she’d crumble. At least that way she’d be getting all of it out of her system. But, this? This was the works of the sorrow taking her hostage. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I don’t want to think about me right now.” She confessed. “This isn’t about me. Later. I promise.”

“Okay.” Inuyasha breathed, accepting her compromise. He took a moment, sealing his lips, pushing her hair behind her ear as she stared on at the corpse. With the way her fingers twitched forward, he could tell she was wanting to feel Kikyo again, hold her, console her. Like, she was trying to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t necessary anymore. She was dead.

“We should,” He sighed. “We should bury her. You want to do that?”

Kagome nodded. “Yeah. But, not here.”

“Not here?” He echoed, more for a reach into her mind to understand.

“Kagura told Kikyo that if Naraku asked where her body was located, she’d have to tell him. Kikyo doesn’t want Naraku to have her body. I don’t want him to find her.”

“Okay. Let’s find some place else, then. Come on.” Inuyasha held his hand out for her, waiting patiently until she took it.

He let her guide their way. He didn’t mind the silence, or the loose grip she had on his fingers. He didn’t mind her minor stumbling, or how she was aimlessly wandering. Inuyasha would be able to find their way back, and he would walk however far Kagome deemed appropriate.

They came upon a hillside that overlooked a valley. It was green, dewy from the moisture in the crisp air, and peppered with wildflowers. Instantly, he knew Kagome’s attention was on the single tree just to their right. Before she’d even pulled him in that direction, he knew.

“In the daytime, she’ll be shaded, but at nighttime, she’ll have a clear shot of the stars. What do you think?” She asked. She’d finally stopped crying, her cheeks positively stained with streaks of old blood and salt. Yet, she was still capable of being kind, of being compassionate. Kagome didn’t choose a spot at random, but put some thought into the scenery that felt right.

“I think it’s perfect.” He answered. Pointing to a spot that he felt would be best covered by the branches above, Inuyasha asked, “Here?”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t the easiest, but they dug a whole that ran deep, one the average demon's nose wouldn’t be able to catch a whiff of the deceased through. One Inuyasha felt would properly shield Kikyo from Naraku within. They traveled back to grab Kikyo, and Inuyasha was careful with how he carried her, handling the former conjurer with extreme care as Kagome followed immediately behind with her discarded bow to bury her with.

The sun was beginning it’s ascent as they returned to the gravesite, and by the time Kikyo was fully laid to rest, the sky blended with awakening tints of pink and blue. Inuyasha remained quiet, respectful as Kagome continued to pat the dirt to ensure it was packed firmly. It was easy to tell she was hesitant to leave Kikyo. He could physically feel the remorse she waded through, but still, he wished she’d shed tears again. It hurt so bad to watch her suffer in silence, to watch her shut down, to watch her fingers tremble while he could do nothing to ease her heartache.

It was one thing to understand a person you knew had died. It was one thing to learn of it from another, or even to witness it from a safe distance. But, to hold them as it happened? To see the light fade from their eyes, to hear their voice trail away, to feel them grow heavy in your arms, it was an entirely different story. It was traumatizing. He’d been there. He held his mother. He held a few strangers he’d found mauled, on their final breath, and so afraid to die alone. It was hard. He knew firsthand that Kagome was going to continue to feel the weight of Kikyo in her arms throughout the duration that she mourned, as if the woman were still present and there. He knew firsthand that Kagome was going to wash the blood from her body but still see it as if it had seeped through the first layer of her flesh and she’d need to scrape it all off until her skin was angry, raw, and prickling with her own blood. And, there was nothing he could do to save her from that. Those feelings were going to demand her undivided attention, and the only thing Inuyasha was aware he could offer was his unwavering support. No matter how badly he wanted to protect her, even steal the emotions away to be felt as his own so that she wouldn’t have to shoulder them, he knew he couldn’t.

In no way did he plan on allowing her to sink into those dark thoughts he was all too conscious of. The ones that dragged you down while you were weakened by a state of grieving, that made you feel like there was no amount of sunlight that could brighten the darkness. As time had passed and Kagome merely stared at the grave, silent, motionless, the hanyou made the call. It was time to go.

At her side, he held out his hand. “Come on, Kagome.” He’d spoken so softly. Her dull gaze slowly shifted to his extended fingers, and by instinct, she went to place her hand in his, but paused halfway.

It was the guilt. That she got to continue living while Kikyo did not. That Kikyo would be left here alone. All alone. Kagome’s hand faltered back and forth between taking Inuyasha’s and touching the dirt that bedded the former conjurer. All the while, he was patient. He knew she would understand that she couldn’t stay here forever, and he didn’t have to articulate the reminder. Kagome would choose to move forward.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered to Kikyo, and before long, her fingers slid within Inuyasha’s gentle grasp.

The hanyou assisted her to a standing. “She doesn’t have to fight anymore. She’s at peace now.”

“I know.” The surviving conjurer replied quietly. He could tell, at the moment, his statement was in one ear and out the other. She wasn’t in the right state of mind to receive reassurance. Her walls were up. And, he had a feeling he’d know when she was ready.

They made their way back to their campsite to gather the few things they’d left behind. Inuyasha knew she wouldn’t want to stay. He didn’t need to kick out what embers may have still remained because they’d long died off on their own. Instead, he took the bag before she could secure it over her shoulders. He couldn’t do much for her right now, but the least he could do was remove the physical weight from her back.

Kagome wasn’t talkative in the least, didn’t even make a sound when she’d accidentally tripped over a root and stumbled into his arm, the gasp she’d released so light even he had hardly caught it. She needed to rest, he was more than aware, but he knew that if he verbally made the suggestion, Kagome would shake her head to decline. She’d closed herself off so much, he was certain she didn’t even realize they were still covered in dried blood and dirt. As far as he was concerned, it was his executive decision to make. So, he sought out a river, or a lake, or any small body of water they’d be able to wash off in.

He’d thought he’d been following the sounds of a stream, but as the rushing water became more thunderous than expected, he’d realized they were at the bottom of a waterfall. It was secluded, it was peaceful, it was where they were calling it a day. And, he meant that. He didn’t care if she wanted to keep going after they’d cleaned up, and he didn’t care if they got into an argument because of it; Kagome needed to sit down and rest. She hadn’t gotten much sleep as it was, and she couldn’t just walk this feeling off. She, of all people, should know.

To his surprise, as they forced their way through bushes to come out onto the greenery that surrounded the pool, Kagome seemed to have no objections. She knew what they were there for, and as he set the bag down, removing the sheath of his sword from the loop in his belt, she dropped her bow and quiver from her shoulders to the ground beside them. After placing her father’s knife in the pile, she followed the hanyou into the water, neither yet bothering to remove any clothing.

Inuyasha reached for her hands, which this time she didn’t hesitate to take, holding the both of his as he pulled her in deeper. For the first time in hours, Kagome sighed out heavily, a little shakily. The pool was cold, it was a shock to the system, and it served to both cleanse her person while jolting her out of the bleak depths of her depressive state.

The hanyou gently began washing her palms off, taking meticulous care, and finally he heard her voice. It was cracked, it was small, but it was her voice.

“I can do it.” She claimed. And, he gave her a small grin of acknowledgment, releasing his meager grip to give her space.

Kagome dunked her hands in the water, beginning to rub the filth on her fingers away. Some of it washed off easily, but a good portion was stuck to her skin. It would have been easier if she had a rag, or maybe something coarse. Something that could lift the crimson stain so she’d never have to see it again. Utilizing the next best thing that she had, Kagome removed her shirt, balling up the ruined cloth and plunging it into the pool. For some reason, she’d tried to rinse it the best that she could, no matter how much of a lost cause it was from the start.

Grabbing an end that wasn’t stained, Kagome used it to scrub at her hands, finding it helped substantially. She continued up her arms, taking her time, but during which, finding her stability wavering. As she washed the remaining evidence of the last of Kikyo’s life away, she revisited the wounds that marred her flesh, her final words, the way her eyes faded, and hot tears quickly brimmed that had to be blinked away.

“I’m gonna dive.” Kagome mentioned, warning Inuyasha so he wouldn’t worry.

She took a deep breath, and down she went, kicking off of the rocks beneath her feet to swim deeper into the pool. Coming up to the surface, Kagome treaded in the water for a moment, quickly acclimating to the temperature now that she’d fully submerged. She backed up until her feet could reach some of the loose, mossy floor beneath, and then continued until she was only engulfed from the chest down. Even the cold didn’t help anymore. Kagome couldn’t silence her grief, tears streaming from her eyes as her breathing became heavy and sputtered once more.

Kikyo was gone. She was gone. She could still feel her in her arms, she could still hear her cries. She was told it wasn’t her fault, but if that were true, why did Kagome feel such a horrible sense of remorse in the pit of her chest? Why did she feel so guilty? Just because Kikyo felt she couldn’t be saved didn’t mean Kagome shouldn’t have tried. Why hadn’t she figured out the visions were coming from Kikyo? How could she not have pieced that together sooner? It didn’t matter that she had never experienced the detrimental tint of red before, it didn’t matter that she was apparently seeing things through Kikyo’s eyes for just small glimpses at a time. They were reoccurring and precise. How could she have dismissed them as nothing more than dreams without a meaning? She was smarter than that. It felt insensitive to have belittled them as such, it felt cruel of her to shrug them off and carry on with her day while Kikyo had been fighting for her life. Kagome had failed. She’d failed herself, and she’d failed her friend.

Her sobs were beginning to wrack her body, like hyperventilated breaths that made it hard to actually attain oxygen. This sadness, this thick sludge of loss was impossible to ignore, and instead of trying to regain control over herself while it wasn’t necessary, instead of reaching for composure that was miles away, Kagome turned around to face Inuyasha.

He’d been watching her. Carefully. Closely. All while minding her space. He, himself, had removed his shirt using it to scrub clean, but he never had his eyes off of her for more than a second at a time. Each gasp he heard her breathe as she began to cry was like a thorn to his heart. It was difficult to respect the distance she’d created, but as the water rippled, and she turned his way, looking at him with such a sorrowful expression, that was all he needed in order to know that he no longer had to. She was ready for him.

Taking his cue, Inuyasha waded over, his arms catching her as she closed the distance herself by bounding into his chest.

“I’ve got you, baby.” He whispered soothingly into her hair, tightening his hold around her as she cried against him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Inuyasha kissed her head, stroked his fingers over the soaked backside of the top that supported her breasts, gently pet her hair, and waited patiently. He would have stood there holding her all fucking day and night if that was what it took. He didn’t care. If this was what Kagome needed, then nothing stood the chance of pulling him away from her.

As her weeping gradually died down, and the aftershocks of hiccups shook her core, his hands began to massage at her upper back, creating tiny ripples of water with his skillful movements. Her arms had slackened some around his waist, but Kagome still nuzzled into his chest.

“I can’t get all of the blood off of me.” She mentioned, her words raspy. Broken.

“You got most of it. I saw. You want my help?” Inuyasha spoke sweetly.

“Please.” Kagome nodded against him, leaning back the tiniest bit. “Is it - is it still on my face?”

Inuyasha didn’t answer just yet, dipping his hands in the water before bringing his thumbs up and gently rubbing against her cheeks. “Not anymore.”

He didn’t say anything else before his hands traveled downward, washing her chest, applying a little more friction to the mess on her stomach, all the while placing a tender kiss to the center of her forehead.

“I’m sorry. I have to ask this.” Inuyasha whispered into her ear. “But, I wasn’t there, so I don’t know the situation. Were you hurt, kid?”

In response, Kagome shook her head. “Kikyo protected me with her magic. Kagura didn’t even know I was there.”

“Then, what’s this on your back?” He asked, gently rubbing over the scraped area as he had numerous times already.

“That was me.” She said, tucking herself back into his arms so he’d rest his chin on top of her head. “I stumbled into a tree.”

It wasn’t until her nerves had died down and she began to shiver that Inuyasha made the decision to guide her out of the water. Their soaked clothes were set out to dry, and the both of them were soon donned in fresh apparel, sitting around a fire she’d insisted on being the one to build.

Kagome hadn’t wanted to deal with her hair, finding herself growing impatient just by brushing the damp tangles away. As soon as the last of it was smoothed out, she grabbed her hair tie and set to braiding it, uncaring of the uneven chunks of hair that she grabbed while she started at the crown of her head and worked her way down.

“That’s cute.” Inuyasha smiled, crouching before her and taking it upon himself to fix her loose bangs. The only reply she could muster was a lazy crinkle of her nose, bringing a chuckle from his lips as he got some fish cooking over the fire.

At first, he’d figured she didn’t want to talk about anything, but before long, Inuyasha realized it was more that she couldn’t. Kagome looked exhausted. Her emotions were justifiably all over the place, and in her state, how could she be expected to be able to put them into words? He wasn’t the least bit bothered by her silence or how far she seemed to sit from him. Truthfully, he figured it was all absentminded action. At least now she didn’t seem so sunken inward. Her irises were still dull, but there was the glimmer of Kagome in them again. He suspected that slowly, steadily, she would return at her own rate. And, Inuyasha would be right there when she did.

Kagome managed to eat more than he’d expected of her, and though he’d left her alone to rest, he knew she was fighting it. Couldn’t say he blamed her for that. It was twilight, but a monotonous one. No gorgeous colors glowed in the sky to end their day, and from their position behind the mountain, they couldn’t even see the sun as it fell. Before they knew it, the two of them were shadowed completely, the air quickly growing crisp as it lost the warmth that the sun provided.

It was chilly. She sat near the fire, but being so close to the waterfall had a draft hitting them that was hard to ignore. Kagome was trying not to make it obvious. She knew Inuyasha was already worried about her, and he had been so kind, and sweet, and diligent all day, so she was scared that merely shivering would exacerbate his concern. She’d considered laying down, trying to sleep, but it was hard to close her eyes for more than a second without seeing Kikyo’s body. Even now, there was still a hard lump caught in her throat that made it difficult to swallow. She was just all cried out for the moment. Her eyes burned with fatigue, her chest ached from the hiccups that had taken forever to go away, her muscles felt sluggish and heavy, and her head throbbed horrendously.

For some reason, her attention kept shifting to Inuyasha. He was leaning back against a tree, sitting nonchalantly as he gazed up at the sky. Why were they so far apart? Why had she sat alone? Maybe because she was worried about bothering him further or seeming clingy. Would Inuyasha actually mind if she was clingy for a little while? She honestly couldn’t see him being bothered by it. At all. She didn’t want him to just allow it because she was in a bad state of mind at the moment, though. Like he pitied her. She didn’t want pity. She wanted compassion. But, this was Inuyasha. This was her Inuyasha. If she wanted to be near him and didn’t act on it, and he found out later, he’d probably call her an idiot. No, he’d call her worse. If she wanted to touch him but kept to herself out of fear of bothering him, Inuyasha would give her the look. The look that said more than his mouth ever could, and that was saying something given Inuyasha was probably the most outspoken person she’d ever met. It was a glare that scolded, a slant of his eyes that condemned her, but there was no frown. His lips were set straight, pulled in no direction, and it was probably what made the expression worse since she couldn’t read what level of upset he was actually conveying. It was rare that he ever looked at her that way, but she’d seen it twice, maybe three times, before. And, it was the one thing he could do to make her truly pout in shame.

Resolved and hopeful for an inkling of peace she knew his arms would provide, Kagome picked herself up from her spot, sauntering over to the hanyou. His eyes shifted her way, and as she grew closer, a small, welcoming smile appeared. The empty spot beside him didn’t suit her liking, though. As odd as it seemed, it just wasn’t close enough. Feeling a rush of shyness mix into her already-swarming emotions, all Kagome could bring herself to do in order to communicate was glance down at his legs while she stood in front of him. Verbal communication was far out of reach, but she knew Inuyasha was the only person who’d learned to understand her with or without.

Inuyasha’s grin only inched wider when she gave such a subtle signal for him to take. She wanted his lap. Honestly, he was just happy she wanted to be near him right now. He’d fully accepted that she needed her space and was going to respect it, but he’d be a lying sack of shit if he didn’t admit that he wanted to at least be within arms reach for his own sense of comfort. Having her sit across their camp was hard while he knew she was struggling and all he wanted to do was help, but he was more than willing if it was what she’d wanted. But, now she wanted him.

He outstretched his bent legs, patting on his thighs for her to lay on as she had several times before, but this time Kagome gave a small shake of her head. At first, Inuyasha was a little confused. He’d read her correctly, right? She does want his lap, right?

“Not like this?” He asked. And, Kagome replied with a shake of her head in confirmation. “Did you want to sit?”

She gave a small nod, pointing in between his legs. In another attempt to get it right, Inuyasha bent his legs as they’d just been, spreading them wider so she had room to sit between his thighs. Again, she shook her head, a bashful flush heating her face as she bit her bottom lip.

“Oh,” He chuckled. “I know what you want.”

Of course. It was foolish of him not to think of it first. Kagome didn’t want to just sit with him, or lean against him. She wanted to be held by him. She wanted to be tucked so securely against him that nothing stood the chance of harming her. She wanted, just for a moment, to not have to put up a strong demeanor. She wanted to shrink into his chest, his arms, she wanted to close her eyes, and she wanted the sound of his heartbeat to mute all other thoughts her mind could threaten her with.

Inuyasha folded his legs, watching the tiniest smile pull at the corners of her lips when he opened his arms to invite her in. She carefully crawled into his lap, her own legs folding over one of his thighs as she curled into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist and nuzzling against him.

“Better?” He asked just before kissing her temple. Kagome granted him a hum of approval, sighing out deeply as he hugged her close, tight, safe.

Inuyasha relaxed back against the tree, enjoying the feel of how her breath hadn’t yet synced to his. The push of her lungs met his abdomen in disagreement with his own pattern, matching their own rhythm, and it brought him a sensation of tranquility. When their breathing matched, it wasn’t that he didn’t love it. It was more that it just became too second nature and he had to focus to make sure her lungs were really doing their job. But, when she opposed his own, he didn’t need a reminder. He could feel it.

Quicker than he’d expected, Kagome’s weight began to increase against him. She was falling asleep. His arms were snug around her, his chin was resting on top of her head, and if he didn’t risk pulling her from that in between state, he’d be kissing her goodnight right now. It was that in between state that he knew was the most worrisome, though. Where you weren’t quite unconscious so the thoughts that you barely kept at bay during the day could sneak up on you at any given moment without so much as a barrier to hold them back. All Inuyasha could hope for was her serenity. Kagome deserved that much. She deserved to rest right now. And, as he felt her breathing deepen, a small twitch from her fingers on his backside, he knew she’d gotten past it without harm, sleeping soundly in the refuge of his protection.

—

It would be an understatement to say Kagura was shaken. The choice of vocabulary was laughable in comparison to what she’d actually felt. She was no saint. She’d done horrible things in her lifetime. Before she thought to escape her “father,” Kagura had done his bidding without so much as blinking an eye. She’d murdered, she’d robbed, she’d come home covered in blood belonging to numerous people at a time, took a bath, then moved on with her life without feeling an ounce of compunction. It wasn’t that she could claim she had a conscience. In fact, she was sure she was deliberately created without one. If Naraku surely didn’t own one, how could she? That didn’t mean she wasn’t smart enough to know right from wrong. That didn’t mean she wanted to be the same sort of beast Naraku was. That was where he’d made his mistake in creating her. He’d given her a mind of her own.

Naraku was more than vile. His twisted laughter at another’s expense caused her stomach to churn and ache, his malicious smile made her welcome the dark so she’d never have to see it, his unforgiving brutality had her wishing for her own death at times, and it wasn’t all that long after her rise that a switch flipped in her brain and she realized she wanted to be as far removed from him as she could possibly get.

Maybe that meant she did have a conscience. Maybe she’d developed one after so many pleading screams had echoed in her ears. Maybe running away and experiencing love was both the best and worst thing for her, because killing Kikyo was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.

It was too easy. It was entirely too easy. Why was she ordered to kill Kikyo when she was on her deathbed as it was? The conjurer had run herself dry, depleted her energy, and was so far gone that no matter how well she’d tried to take care of herself thereafter, there was no coming back from it. Kikyo would have died on her own in just a matter of weeks if things continued as they were. So, why the hell did Kagura have no other choice but to savagely murder her?

She knew the story. She knew how Naraku attempted to corrupt Kikyo, how they’d met when she could still be considered a child, how that monster upheaved her life, flipped it upside down, and burned any future she may have been able to create for herself. Naraku had singlehandedly made that woman’s world hell, and Kagura was furious that she had to personally see to the end of it. Naraku killed her spirit, and Kagura killed her heart.

And, she knew what was about to happen. She knew Naraku too well not to know what sort of reaction waited for her on the other side of the manor. As disgusting as it was, while he was still human, he truly did harbor some sort of affection for Kikyo. And, Kagura had her blood dripping down her fingers.

She took a deep breath, easily shoving aside her conflicting emotions so that she could get this over with. She’d been gone for too long as it was, so any feelings that slowed her down were useless right now. Kagura’s heels clicked along the hard floor, a frown curving at her stained lips as she approached the study and entered through the cracked door.

He’d smelled it. He’d smelled her coming, and he smelled the liquid oozing from the feather she held and down her hand. That was why Naraku was already staring at the door, that was why his jaw was hard and set, that was why his red eyes were more piercing than she’d ever seen in her entire life. Kagura instantly understood that she had underestimated the situation. From the way the half demon bristled at the other end of the room, from the way his tentacles curled malignantly, and the spider legs that grew out of the free space of his back appeared and stiffened, from the way his demonic energy began to swirl like she’d only felt a handful of times, things were already appearing to be worse than she’d imagined. It’d caught her off guard. She froze in the entryway, apprehensive, her breathy gasp caught in her throat to emphasize the hollow.

“That - that’s -“ It seemed like her master was in a state of shock. Kagura had never seen his lips twitch this way, or his chin quiver in the manner it did now. “Did you…”

“Miss Kagura, you’re -“ Rin’s small smile of greeting faded as quickly as it had appeared as the man standing just a few feet away from where she sat on the floor playing with dolls screamed at her so loud, his voice cracked.

“SHUT UP!” Naraku had curled his spine some, his thick fingers positively quaking. “Did you do it, Kagura!? Is she dead!?”

“She’s - yes.” Kagura answered unsteadily, eyes wide and breath trembling. “Yes, I did it. Kikyo’s dead.”

“And, that’s her blood?” He didn’t need to ask that question. She knew his sense of smell was somehow stronger than her own.

“It is.”

“You’re unscathed. How? Kikyo is strong, you should have come back half mangled! You’re lying! You betrayed me again, didn’t you!? You made a deal with that cunt and took some of her blood to try and fool me! She’s still alive out there, isn’t she!?” He raced over to her, grabbing Kagura by the throat and pinning her against the wall before she could so much as think to react. She’d had to ignore the little girl’s scream, her broken cry, praying she’d keep the promise they’d made when she’d first arrived. If Naraku were to ever do anything to Kagura, Rin swore to keep her distance. Rin swore never to run up and try and do something her father would, because Naraku wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her. “Isn’t she!?”

“N-Naraku.” Kagura gurgled, trying to push him off, to pry her neck from his grip with her free hand while preserving the evidence she held in the other. “Kikyo’s - Kikyo’s dead.”

It was another moment before Naraku’s eyes went blank, his fingers gradually releasing Kagura, and a thick swallow had his Adam’s apple bobbing.

She gasped in some air, recovering as quickly as she could to give the explanation he was looking for before he could grow angry again. “Kikyo did strike me.” She said, pointing to a tear in her gown on her arm that she’d received days before. “It’s just healed already.”

“She’s a conjurer. You should have been dead from her strike.”

“She was dying, Naraku. She hardly had any power left in her.”

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know the logistics of their kind. She looked passed the point of fatigue. When I had appeared, she had this look in her eyes. Like, her final chance had just been stolen away. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try.” He said through gritted teeth.

“I saw hope, but I saw it gradually fizzle the nearer I got.” Kagura said. “You were the one who’d told me she was weak and sick. Why is this coming as such a shock to you?”

“Such impudence to question me!” Naraku yelled, slapping the back of his hand across Kagura’s face. Forcefully, he jerked the feather from between her fingers. “This will tell me if you’re lying.”

The monster hovered the stained, white object close to his face, observing it intensely, intimately. His red irises traveled over each minor detail of the feather, gazing at the blood with a sense of dedication that steadily shifted into desire. It was grotesque. It was disturbing. It had Kagura pressing herself flush against the wall in an attempt to further separate from the madman.

Dreamily, Naraku dragged the feather over his tongue, the conserved blood coloring the surface of which before he closed his mouth and took his time studying the taste. His eyes blinked hazily, sort of rolling into the back of his head as a vicious grin turned at the corners of his lips. It wasn’t wide, it wasn’t tooth-baring. It was minute, subtle, but speaking volumes of the pleasure he felt. Kagura had to swallow her shudder, tensing her entire body so she risked no involuntary, negative reactions from her muscles.

“I can taste you.” Naraku breathed.

“You sliced her.” He chuckled.

“Your demonic energy is mixed with her mortal essence.” He moaned.

“She still tastes as good as she did before.” He licked the feather again.

“Fuck,” He groaned pleasantly. “I can practically taste her final breaths.”

“She was so pathetically weak when she died.” Naraku laughed, stumbling backward as he grew intoxicated by the blood. “She’s dead. The bitch is dead! She’s dead!” But, then his glee began to dwindle, his crazed eyes glued to the feather as he began to furl his spine forward. The extra appendages on his back began slithering, growing, twitching erratically. His mental state had slipped, his footing was unstable as he continued to stumble backward, to the side, forward, stopping in the center of the floor when his spider legs planted roughly and supported him. He neither blinked nor swallowed, drool with the slightest tint of red dripping from his opened lips to dribble down his chin while his smile fell into a horrible, enraged frown. It was processing. His ex-lover was deceased. She was no more. Kikyo’s existence was gone, and even he, with the decrepit heart that beat within his chest, felt the pain of loss. “She’s dead? She’s dead? She’s dead. She’s - she’s - no.”

With a quick a demanding snap of her fingers, Kagura looked to the terrified and crying girl on the carpet, directing Rin to run to her side immediately with a point. The patter of her feet was rushed as she scrambled up and away from her spot, opening her arms wide for Kagura to grab her and pick her up, securing her against her body.

Naraku’s energy was soaring. It was so irate that a literal strength circled around him, building, growing, sending objects flying, the jar on Naraku’s desk holding Moryomaru’s still and rotting heart shattering against the far wall.

“Kikyo! Kikyo, my beloved!”

As quickly as she could, Kagura tucked rin’s head down against her shoulder and raced out of the room to safety. She’d never seen him like that. She’d never witnessed just how insane Naraku could be. She’d thought she’d seen it all, she’d thought she’d lived through the worst, but the entire place was shaking with his rage, and she wondered if killing the conjurer was truly worth it now.

—

Inuyasha turned to check how far behind him Kagome was trailing. Seeing she was within arm’s reach, regarding him with a small smile had his chest feeling a little lighter. It hadn’t yet been a full week since Kikyo’s passing, just a day shy, and he couldn’t quite claim she was back to normal, but she was handling herself well. He knew the further they got from the place it all happened, and the further they got from the date, the more Kagome’s state improved.

Just recalling how she was a few days ago had a heavy throb making home in his heart. She’d wake up and her irises would seem dull and spiritless, she’d either lay or sit there for a long moment before really coming to, and then she’d check her hands. Every day, she had to make sure they were clean. Kagome said her peripheral vision was playing tricks on her. In the corner of her eyes, she still saw red staining her skin, and first thing in the morning her not-yet-functioning brain would convince her she hadn’t succeeded in cleaning it all off. He’d quickly made it a habit of checking behind him to see where she was. He was so used to her by his side that when she was missing it was unsettling, but he also comprehended that keeping up was a little more difficult at the moment than when she was mentally sound. Inuyasha didn’t want to make her feel like she needed to hurry along, though. Right now, he didn’t mind taking it easy. Their next destination, one he hadn’t brought up to her for the sake of her momentary sanity, wasn’t necessarily one he was eager to get to anytime soon, anyway. As important as it was to get there soon, it wasn’t pressing to get there now. They had a few days to spare; it could wait that long.

Kagome still broke down. She wasn’t an empty shell of herself, and sometimes the pain in her chest became too much to bear and she’d crumble where she stood. It wasn’t difficult at all to be patient, and he hushed her whenever she apologized between shuddering sobs. If she’d stop while walking and crouch down to cry, Inuyasha would stop too. He’d kneel right next to her and either stroke her hair or rub her back. He wouldn’t say a thing unless prompted, because he knew very well that this was just a form of release. If she allowed it to build up, if she swallowed it and pushed the feelings away like she used to, it would eventually become too much to bear and potentially grow worse. It would ultimately effect her mentality, and her spiritual power would be difficult to control. Kagome couldn’t allow her emotions to pave the way, so she had to let them out.

Inuyasha knew that sensation. He knew that stuffiness in the center of your chest where it felt like a literal weight was making your entire body seem heavy. He knew how quickly it expanded, how bleak it made everything seem, how it made you feel like you would never recover and you were bound to be stuck with this burden forever. So, he was glad Kagome was taking care of herself. He was glad Kagome was crying. He was glad when she looked at him with those reddened, puffy eyes and that pouting, bottom lip that jutted out just a tiny bit, and she allowed him to clean the tears from her face and express just how tender he was capable of being.

Gradually, as the days passed, she cried a little less, she fell behind a little less, she replied a little more, she smiled a little wider, and her laughter was beginning to return. Inuyasha reached behind him now, accepting her modest grin by grabbing for her hand.

“Need a break?” He asked.

“I need a snack, is what I need.” Kagome said with a little grumble

“You’re hungry?”

“I mean, I could eat.”

Inuyasha chuckled, squeezing his grip on her hand. “Okay, we can climb down the mountain for some fish and actually sit down to eat a lunch, or we can eat some berries and hope that tides us off for a while. Option A will take at least an hour given we’re pretty high up from the river, option B will take about ten minutes because I’m pretty sure I saw some bushes with berries not too far back. I’m just not sure if they were the poisonous sort or not.”

“Berries!” Kagome chose with a small bounce.

“Okay,” The hanyou had to look away then, standing no chance of subduing his flush. In such a short time, her happiness appeared so far away from him that now that she was beginning to show it again, to be herself again, it made him stupidly flustered. She was cute. Too fucking cute. Irritatingly cute. “How about I go grab the berries and you find a spot to relax?”

“You don’t want me to go with you?” She questioned.

“Nah, you don’t need to. Don’t wander off too far, though.” He replied, slipping his hand out of hers and turning around to backtrack the trail they’d traveled.

Kagome felt a tug on her heart as he grew further. She’d felt so absent this past week that she actually missed Inuyasha, and he’d been right next to her the entire time. He’d kissed her head numerous times, her cheek, her temple, and once even on her hand, but right now she wanted that little bit of affection she’d been too far gone to receive and reciprocate. So, Kagome spun around on her heel, albeit bashfully, as she played with the sleeves of her shirt.

“Hey.” She called out, stopping her hanyou in his tracks.

Inuyasha looked over his shoulder at her, cocking a brow as he waited for her to say something. But, no words came forward. Instead, she pursed her lips, starting small until she lifted her chin, making it evident she wanted a kiss. His heart gave a delightful thud, but his entire body grew uncomfortably warm.

“Use your words.” He teased, trying to swallow his own rush of shyness. She had too much power over him and he was pretty sure she knew it. She knew he was wrapped around her finger just like the red string that knotted around their pinkies, tying them to each other. That didn’t mean he was always going to present himself as the goo his brain turned into. He was still a hard ass through and through, and he’d been nice enough where necessary. Right now, he felt well within his rights to play around with her a little.

Kagome’s mouth fell into a minor pout, finding herself just a bit too timid under his stare to say anything now. He was just taunting her to be a jerk, she was well aware of the games he played. But, she wanted a kiss, dammit. If she gave in and asked, he would only tease her more by saying something like, “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” There was no way Kagome could give him that sort of satisfaction, so again, she tried to communicate her wishes by pursing her lips, this time letting out the smallest whine.

“Is that any way to get what you want?” Inuyasha laughed.

With a skeptic arch of Kagome’s brow, her lips falling into an expression that easily said, obviously, she nodded.

He couldn’t help his sputtering laugh. Yeah, she definitely knew the effects she had on him. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Inuyasha walked right back over, rushing her at the tail end so she’d squeal and jump back just as he grabbed her, pulling her into a kiss.

“There,” Inuyasha spoke between a peck, his word murmured against her lips. “Happy?”

“Wait, one more.” Kagome replied, just as muted by his affection. “Okay, now I’m happy.” She giggled.

“I’ll be right back.” He lightly stated, giving her rear a small tap before he went to walk away again.

Kagome smiled, turning around to find a good spot to sit down for a moment. They could always just park it on the floor, which they may very well have to do given the trail they were currently on, but it was at least worth looking for a better spot.

They’d been heading uphill for a while already, and she was glad Inuyasha offered a break. She knew she’d been slowing the two of them down for days now, but it honestly couldn’t be helped. And, while she was aware he more than understood her current state, that didn’t mean she wanted to request more stops just because her legs and ass were on fire from the steep mountain they traveled on. If he hadn’t have brought it up, Kagome would have pushed through it all without complaint.

Down below, she could just barely hear the river. It was still so full from all the rain it had recently received, moving wildly along its course. As she traveled just a bit further, Kagome noticed a slim peek of rock through a break in the bushes and trees. It looked like a cliff that extended outward, overlooking the scenery - a wide one that had no previous accessibility until this point, and even now that accessibility was narrow. Still, if she were right, it would be the perfect spot to sit down and rest for a moment.

It wasn’t until she grew closer that she began to feel like something was off. It felt like an object was very subtly radiating demonic properties, yet it wasn’t a demon, itself, she was sensing. In essence, it was similar to Inuyasha’s blade, but for some reason, it also felt very different. Curious, Kagome pushed through the thick shrubbery to come out most of the way onto the cliff - extending longer than she’d anticipated. Immediately, her brown eyes landed on a man at the edge, facing away from her, his hair long, waving, darker than her own, and ruffling in the breeze. Despite the large amount of noise she’d made pushing through the bushes, the man hadn’t seemed to notice her, and if he had, he didn’t bother to turn around. Not straightaway. He was leisured as he slowly glanced over his shoulder, and it was only after the noise had completely died.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Kagome said, trying not to stare into his red irises as he gradually turned around to fully face her. She’d never seen any quite like that. Not where the pupils were white. It was piercing. Intimidating. But, the gentle smile he wore contradicted that, and that was what she chose to focus on. “I wasn’t expecting to find anyone here.”

The man still didn’t speak. His thin lips didn’t even part as if he wanted to say something. He merely gazed on at her, his head leaning ever so slightly to the side.

His silence was unsettling. Worse, his never-dying grin was becoming so, as well. What once was gentle was now disturbing. With the way he stared at her, it would be normal to perceive it as him looking straight through her, but he wasn’t. Kagome could feel it. This man’s eyes were right on her, studying her, eating her up.

“Are you - are you okay?” She asked nervously, unable to help the way her fingers fidgeted. What she truly wanted to know was if this man was mentally present. He was standing unnervingly close to the ledge. One misstep, and he was gone.

To her surprise, he chuckled. His voice was deep, silky. “I can’t even remember the last time anyone’s bothered to ask me that.”

That, alone, had Kagome feeling substantially more uncomfortable. What had he been looking at before she came? What had been running through his mind? What was this man contemplating just before she disturbed his silence and came trudging through the thickets? Her eyes, yet again, fell down to the edge of the cliff just behind his heels, then shifted back up to his face, his mouth.

“If you’re worried I’m going to jump, don’t be.” He said kindly, showing a little more personality with the way he smirked and looked away in amusement. “That’s quite the opposite of what I want. Really, it’d be counterproductive.”

“Oh,” Kagome breathed. While she wanted to feel relieved, there was something off-putting about the man. Severely off-putting. What was the object that drew her attention? She saw nothing on his person. No weapon was belted to his hip, nor his thigh, nor his shoulder. He held nothing in his hands, nor was there a bag strapped to his back. Maybe, it was something else she sensed. Or, maybe she should heed the warning her gut was receiving and leave it alone, back away, find Inuyasha, and rest on the very far side of the mountain. “Well, I apologize for bothering you.”

“You don’t have to leave.” He said before she could even move.

“I have to go find my boyfriend. I promised him I wouldn’t walk off too far.” She quickly stated.

“Then, why did you come out here?”

Kagome tensed. “I - Well, it looked like a nice spot to rest, and the scenery would be pretty. I wasn’t aware you were here, though. The last thing we’d want to do is disturb you. Besides -”

“You want to look at the scenery?” The man offered, his smile widening an inch as he turned to look over the cliff, at the mountains opposite, the green, the trees, the blue sky. “Come. Look. No need to be shy, Kagome. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, but I -“ Kagome froze mid-step, turning around to exit through the bushes when it hit her. As a chill ran down her spine, she pushed herself to look back at the man, her lips still parted, her brows furrowed in question.

He chuckled. “You’re not as easy to find as I’d thought you’d be.”

“How do you know my name?” She asked apprehensively.

“Isn’t it funny, maybe even a little ironic, that I would figure out who you were before you would me?” He carelessly ran his fingers through his hair. “Did you even bother to ask what I looked like? Given you’re a conjurer, I’m assuming your vendetta is with me. Of course, that could very well be my arrogance talking.”

No. It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be…

“Oh, there it is.” He laughed, chest and shoulders bouncing with the amusement. “The face of someone realizing just who they’re talking to. So, am I right? Was it me you were looking for?”

Kagome didn’t answer, an alarming sensation igniting in her core. Was this really Naraku? How did he know they were looking for him? Was it because she and Inuyasha had killed Moryomaru and it had gotten back to him? Or, had she been betrayed?

“You look to be in a state of shock. Disbelief? Kagome, it’s really me. Baby, honey, sweetums, pookie, I’m the man you’ve been searching for. In the flesh. Why don’t you seem happier?” He taunted jeeringly.

“Naraku?” She asked. She couldn’t help her skepticism. If she was in the presence of Naraku, why hadn’t she felt his demonic energy? Why hadn’t Inuyasha? It wasn’t a being she was sensing, but an object, and Inuyasha should have picked up his scent given she wasn’t all that far from where they’d parted. But, he hadn’t smelled anyone. Otherwise, the hanyou either would have warned her to be careful, or just purely wouldn’t have left her alone. This couldn’t be right. Naraku was supposed to be insanely powerful, so why wasn’t she feeling him. Was he able to conceal his powers? Was that possible?

“Good job, boo boo.” He said mockingly, smiling.

“But, how?”

“You killed Moryomaru. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Naraku shrugged his brows. “If you wanted my attention so bad, there were other ways to go about it. So, what’s up? What did you want to talk about?”

Kagome didn’t know how to read him. She was so thrown off, her perception of this reality was distorted. She needed to get a grip fast, she needed to draw her weapon, but she felt so solid, so confused, so afraid by not only his presence but his carefree demeanor.

“Come on, spit it out.” He wagged his hand in a rushing gesture. “God, for someone with a target on me, you sure seem scared. You sure you can do this?”

“Stop.” She finally spoke. “What are you doing? How are you talking so lightly right now?”

“What do you -“

“You know what I mean!” Kagome intentionally shouted, hoping to catch Inuyasha’s sensitive hearing. “You’re a mass murderer! You’re evil! You’ve been committing genocide, and you want to stand there spewing jokes at me as if nothing’s happened!”

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes.” Naraku nodded, agreeing to everything she’d just listed. “But, see the thing about being evil is, you don’t really care. I know that’s a difficult concept to grasp, what with the whole conscience and all.” He sneered with a light roll of his eyes.

“And, what for? What’s the purpose of all of this? World domination or something?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He curled his upper lip in slight disdain. “Sounds like a lot of responsibility. I would probably have to say power. And, recognition. Like, imagine another region saying, ‘Hey, you’ve heard of Naraku, right? Yeah, I wouldn’t want to fuck with him either.’ To see everyone fear me, to be unbeatable, to know that if I did someday want world domination, I could attain it with the flick of my wrist. Yeah, that’s probably what I’m shooting for.”

“Oh, screw you. You said that all as if you didn’t already know. As if you started all of this because you could.”

“That’s the thing, Kagome. I did. I had the power, so why shouldn’t I be the one to rise to the top? In doing that, I’d have to dispose of the waste, silence the challengers, make a few demonstrations to get the word out, so on and so forth. See, you conjurers are weird folk.” He pointed. “Acting like you’re better than anyone else. It doesn’t make sense to me. What’s that about?”

“We don’t kill for fun.” Kagome replied, a deep scowl forming on her face.

“Oh, no, see that’s not what I’m getting at. Sure, you gotta kill to survive sometimes, self defense, I get that. But, like, you guys act like you’re the peace keepers of the world just because you have the power to purify demonic entities. If you think about it, it’s kind of like you guys are acting like you’re the superior species. It’s the same shit.”

“It’s not the same.” She fired in defense.

“It kind of is.” He chuckled.

“You’re just trying to get me to react.” Kagome said, sighing out a deep breath to regain her bearings. “You really can’t put us on the same level as you. The only thing I heard you admit was that we’re competition. Our existence is a threat to yours.”

“Your existence,” He began, his tone taking a slightly darker note. “Is unnatural.”

She didn’t say anything, utilizing the silence to allow her bow to slide down her arm and into her hand. It would have been impossible not to notice, she was sure, but Naraku mentioned nothing about it, not even bothering to glance down at it in her grip.

“Humans aren’t purposed for supernatural abilities. You guys are the bottom feeders. In the game of the wild, you’re the boars intended for demons to hunt and cook over fires. And, yet here some of you are, popping out of the womb with spiritual powers as if you’re archangels placed on Earth to fight, good versus evil. Allow me to set you straight, Kagome, there is no competition between you and I. Whomever told you that was spitting a pathetic attempt at a lie that you idiotically fell for. If no one told you that and you truly feel I think highly of your kind, you’re delusional.”

“Then, what’s your reason for killing us all?”

“Simply because you’re no archangel. I am as close to a god as you’ll ever get, but you’re meant to join the fallen. So burn, Kagome. Burn.”

“You say it, but you don’t look like you mean that.”

“And, you want to pretend you know me well enough to make that determination? You didn’t even know what I looked like just minutes ago.”

“You’re putting up a front. I know how to read emotions, and you’ve got plenty. What you’re trying to do is conceal them all behind a wall of big talk. Yes, you think my kind is unnatural, but you honestly do think highly of us. I can say that with confidence, because if I recall correctly, you asked a certain conjurer to join your fight toward the very beginning. You thought combining your power with theirs would make you significantly stronger. If you really considered us bottom feeders, you’d have never contemplated such a suggestion. You’ve experienced years of struggle fighting against that conjurer, and have since deemed us all a threat. You’re afraid of us.”

Naraku laughed malevolently, almost appearing taken aback by her insinuation. “Fear. That’s bold to suggest since you’re currently too nervous to even pull an arrow from your quiver.”

“I am afraid.” Kagome admitted without apprehension. “My pride’s not the thing up for question right now.”

His smile was one of incredulity as his red eyes gave a small shift to the side. “Are you sure you want to do this? Fight me?”

“Like I have a choice.” She said through clenched teeth.

Naraku gestured to the ledge. “You do. Jump.”

“Never. I was sure I wanted to do this the moment I recognized the war you were waging. Now that you’ve killed Kikyo, there’s no way I’ll ever back down. You’re cruel, and -”

“Hey, woah, hey, hold on a second there, lady.” The demon braced his hands before him to silence her, pursing his lips for a brief second. “Look, I’m gonna be real with you, you don’t want to mention her. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that you can’t detect my presence. Where’s you’re half breed boy toy? Who knows, because he has no idea I’m here, right? It’s because I’m not. I’m not real. Naraku, he’s kind of - he’s having an -“ He delayed for a second, bobbing his head as he pondered the proper wording for the predicament. “- an episode at the moment. I’m a puppet. A puppet without any strings, if you will, created to complete this task and then - poof - I’m gone. There’s sort of a tether between my mind and his, and god forbid he’s actually paying attention right now. For your sake, you’d better hope he’s still underground. I mean, I’m not trying to play any sort of good guy - it’s nothing like that. You’re still gonna die today, I’m just trying to show a little mercy. Naraku hears her name, he’ll show up because he’ll be able to locate me real fucking fast, and in the mental state he’s currently in, he’ll literally rip you to pieces. Come on now, that’s no way for a girl with a pretty face to go.”

Kagome was grimacing, a deep frown of disgust pulling at her lips. “He kills her and then has the audacity to cry about it!?”

“Drop the subject.” He warned.

“So, you came to kill me in his stead? Just like he had another underling kill her? And, you want to tell me he isn’t afraid!?”

“He doesn’t like to waste his time squishing bugs.”

“Pathetic.” Kagome said, her voice low, demeaning. “How can anyone be expected to take him seriously as a powerful anything if he can’t even do his own bidding? Naraku is a joke. I’ll bet he’s broken inside. I’ll bet he’s fragile.”

“Stop while you’re still ahead.” The puppet had taken on a serious expression, dark lashes fluttering as he blinked his eyes.

“And, I’m supposed to be intimidated by you? You’re not even him.”

“Oh, no, I’m Naraku.” He corrected. “I’m just not him. Count your blessings. I look exactly like the guy, I can do everything he can do aside from multiply, and you really should learn to watch your mouth.” The puppet began to sprout additional limbs from his back, slithering, green tentacles appearing first, soon joined by long, thin legs looking to belong to a spider, planting themselves on the floor to elevate his body from the earth.

Spider-legged-tentacled creep. Koga had said it, but at the time, Kagome hadn’t known how to comprehend the snide remark at Naraku’s appearance. It was shocking, terrifying, but she knew she didn’t have time to stand there and gawk, to take him in, to actually acknowledge her fear.

As swiftly as she could, Kagome drew an arrow from her quiver, about to aim at the monster before she sensed a powerful energy budding from behind.

“Kagome, down!” Inuyasha ordered, and without a moment’s hesitation, knowing exactly what she was feeling, Kagome dropped her body to the hard surface of the rocky cliff. Air was pushed from her diaphragm from how heavy and quickly she’d dodged, but she remained low, feeling that swarm of demonic power blow directly over her, kick against the surface of the ground, and hit Naraku’s puppet.

With a hasty maneuver, Kagome rolled onto her back, lining the knock of her arrow up with the string of her bow to aim at the demon. It was an odd position, one she wasn’t used to, but she powered through it, pulling back her weapon and releasing to hit just as Inuyasha’s wind scar died away. It seemed as though a barrier had protected Naraku from Inuyasha’s attack, and she’d just caught the way the storm of wind rolled right over him, but her arrowhead stuck in the surface of the invisible barricade, penetrating just passed the tip.

She’d noticed the flinch of his brow, how it pinched inward an inch in observation before relaxing. Was he not expecting such quick reflexes from her? Or, was he not expecting her to make a dent at all?

“So, the half breed finally joins. How long were you listening from the sidelines?” Naraku’s puppet inquired, pretending his expression hadn’t accidentally betrayed him.

Inuyasha didn’t answer. His amber eyes were glowing with anger, his skin was blisteringly hot, and his lips twitched as his glower only managed to deepen. This bastard thought he’d catch Kagome while she was vulnerable and alone? This cheap, knock off, son of a bitch really thought he could kill her so easily? The hanyou was furious.

He’d picked up on Kagome’s voice the moment she’d started talking, and he was sure there was no one on the mountain with them. They were alone, and unless she was talking to a ghost, conversations shouldn’t have been had. Instantly, a bad feeling began to curdle in his stomach, so he headed back. He’d rather be safe than sorry. He’d decided to stay off to the side, listening, peeking through the cracks in the trees to get a glimpse at the man she was speaking to. It was easy to tell something was incredibly wrong. Inuyasha couldn’t smell him. He smelled wood, and just a small piece at that. It was very lightly - very lightly - tainted with Naraku’s scent, though. Something that smelled so far off, it was no wonder he didn’t catch it from down the trail. Then, he admitted to being Naraku, but he knew that couldn’t be the entire truth. He didn’t sense a person. He knew this was an illusion of some sort, but the minute Kagome’s life was so readily threatened was the minute Inuyasha’s anger rapidly bubbled. He was not only underestimating her so disrespectfully, but claiming he was going to put his hands on her. He’d told her to jump off the cliff. He’d claimed to offer her mercy. Inuyasha was going to personally see to this thing’s demise.

This was simply a new message that could be sent the real Naraku’s way. They killed Moryomaru. Now, they would be sending his puppet back in pieces. He was next.

“Tell me you’re okay.” Inuyasha said lowly, stepping through the thickets he’d torn apart with his attack. He didn’t bother taking his eyes off of the underling as he supported his sword in one hand, holding his free one out to help Kagome up.

“I’m fine.” She replied, pulling a new arrow from her quiver.

“Don’t want to bother with small talk? Fine.” Naraku smiled, his tentacles somehow growing. A thick one hastily flew upward to slam down between Inuyasha and Kagome, the two of them dodging but ending up separated.

“Inuyasha, aim at the arrow in his barrier!” Kagome instructed.

“Got it!” The hanyou shouted, dodging another mad tentacle before swinging his sword in another wind scar. Naraku laughed, watching the attack yet again slide over his blockade, missing the arrow entirely.

“What the hell was that!?” He guffawed, his laugh almost choked on as he sputtered to a halt, feeling the disruption of a sharp tear in his wall poking his arm. Another arrow had gotten ninety-percent through, stopping just at the feathers and piercing the surface layer of his flesh through his long-sleeved shirt.

“A distraction.” Kagome stated, pulling another arrow.

The puppet smiled again, but it was daring. Challenging. Kagome could quickly tell he was becoming irate, the way his jaw flexed conveying a lethal threat. She sensed the danger about to come her way, but she fell for his ploy. Naraku sent an appendage shooting at her right, but when she went to swerve left, she was struck by a tendril she hadn’t thought to expect. It sent her flying back onto the ground, a cough sputtering from her mouth from the force, but the puppet failed to pin her. He had lost his grip in the moment, and Kagome rolled away. Still, it would have been impossible of her to get to her feet in time, and again, his tentacle dropped on her, trying to wrap around her waist.

His grip was feeble, sliding away altogether as Inuyasha provided a destructive attack right against the barrier. Kagome looked across the way to see his Tessaiga glowing red, the skin of his face reflecting the bright color, worsening the shade of the fury he radiated. His blade sliced through the barricade, decimating it with the blow, and Naraku’s puppet stood there, stunned.

“Fancy trick you got there.” He growled. “A sword that can break through just about anything, huh?”

“Just about.” Inuyasha said in return, his tone gruff.

Naraku didn’t bother to construct another barrier. If they really wanted to think it would be that simple to take him down, he’d be glad to show them the contrary. To his right, Inuyasha stood with his sword at the ready, the red aura dwindling away to reveal its original appearance. To his left, Kagome stood with an arrow aimed directly at him. She’d shrugged off her backpack in the slim moment his attention was off of her, most likely for better movement control, but the puppet couldn’t help but cock a grin.

He moved swiftly, throwing tendrils of his body outward to distract his opponents. He accepted the hits, laughing tauntingly as he raised his hand and extended it in the direction of the half breed. His demonic powers soared outward, clutching the unsuspecting man in a telekinetic and vise grip, throwing Inuyasha to the ground with a loud thud.

Kagome was trapped, caged, and she didn’t know which appendage to aim at first. It was like they were trying to grab her, closing in to make it harder for her to fight back. It was causing her to panic, to second guess her actions, to back step, and his villainous laughter helped none. She’d heard the loud gasp of Inuyasha colliding with the rocky floor, her panic growing when she called out to him and didn’t receive a response.

Spotting an opening, Kagome aimed between the tentacles, straight at Naraku’s body. One of the slithering things was beginning to snake around her, but despite her trepidation and how badly she wanted to jump away, she stayed perfectly still, waiting for a smidgen of a clearer shot. On an exhale, Kagome released her arrow, her spiritual power demolishing a portion of Naraku’s ribcage, his arm, the tentacles around her dying off, and she quickly jumped out of those that hadn’t yet eroded, shaking them off and scampering toward Inuyasha only to halt halfway.

The hanyou was sitting on his knees, pushing himself back to a standing when his attention flew from Kagome to the monster’s incarnation. Kagome had shot him, had used her powers and blown off a part of his side, but at an alarming rate, Naraku was regenerating.

“I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t impressive.” The puppet spoke, and he almost seemed humored. “I’ll admit, you’re putting up more of a fight than I’d expected of a little girl and a mutt. Bet you didn’t see this coming, though. I’m not real, remember? Your conjurer strength can’t just deteriorate my arm and think it’ll hurt, I’ll scream a little, fall to my knees, and then you’ll be good to serve the finishing attack. It’s gonna take a little more than that, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby!” Kagome demanded, quickly pulling an arrow and shooting it at his body. It nailed the same arm, bringing an annoyed groan from his throat as his skin crumbled, but so rapidly did it heal.

“That make you feel powerful?” He mocked. “Get your point across? ‘Don’t call me baby!’” Naraku echoed in a high-pitched voice. “Stupid ass bitch. You’re not fucking listening, are you?”

Before her very eyes, the puppet’s body seemed to be transforming. More tentacles, vines, slithering demon tails grew from his flesh, entangling around his lower body and plunging into the earth. He was surrounded by a mountain of crawling parts that threatened them and protected his core. Roots began sprouting all around them, loosening the ground that supported the cliff, causing their footing to quake as they stumbled and dodged what grew.

“Kagome, come here!” Inuyasha called, wanting her next to him. He couldn’t protect her this way, he couldn’t adhere to her safety when they were divided, and he couldn’t predict what sort of move this monster was going to make next. In his peripheral vision, he could see the conjurer trying to follow his command, but the puppet was teasing her with his roots, pushing her back. When she finally got over them, Naraku slammed a tendril down in between to keep the two lovers separated.

Ferociously, Inuyasha raised his sword to attack, slashing it down in a formidable wind scar that hit the creature dead on, damaging its faux body. It was insane, the speed at which it regenerated, but the hanyou noticed a small part of his abdomen piecing together just a little slower. That must have been his weak point. That must have been why the demonic parts were protecting his stomach.

“Alright, you’re getting a little annoying.” Naraku commented, swiftly snaking multiple vines around him.

Inuyasha knew it was a distraction, the one that stabbed through his left arm, so he growled and clenched his jaw, but that was the only reaction he allowed himself to give, never taking his eyes off of the damned puppet. Kagome shot another arrow, piercing Naraku’s chest, and as quickly as he could to add his own power to the mix, to end this, Inuyasha swung his sword. His attack rumbled dangerously, shooting over the puppet’s body, but his core was protected in the nick of time.

He hadn’t noticed the tendril around his ankle. He hadn’t noticed the knot it had created. And, it was too late to try and cut himself free before the tentacle yanked his foot back and sent his body crashing forward to the ground. Inuyasha had lost his grip on his sword then, the metal clanking against the rock as he was lifted upward by another root that circled around his waist. He was trying to fight, to free himself, but the root was difficult to slice through with his nails. The ground came flying at his face before he could process as he was wasn’t just dropped, but thrown down heavily, the world going silent and black.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome cried, noticing how he hadn’t attempted to get up or reassure her. The hanyou laid still on the ground, a hand beside his face that neither twitched nor reached for his sword.

It was difficult to focus on what was happening with all the movement around her. So desperately did she want to sprint to her hanyou, but at the moment, she absolutely couldn’t. The second she let her guard down would be the second Naraku would win. It all happened too quickly, though. She’d decided to aim at his body, trying not to be distracted by the wriggling roots and appendages, but just before she could release her shot, something large grabbed around her waist, yanking her back so she’d lose her handling on her weapons, and then thrusting her forward and off of her feet. Kagome was ensnared, the tentacle progressively growing tighter as it wrung around her, pulling her closer to the puppet’s side.

Her groan was pleading, and she pushed fruitlessly at the green flesh around her stomach with her empty hands. It hurt. The closer she got to his burning, red eyes and sadistic smile, the more terrified and panicked Kagome grew.

“So, what now, conjurer?” Naraku asked, hovering her near him. He liked the tiny whimpers that escaped her throat. He liked the way her brown eyes were glimmering with urgency. “Come on, I’m within reach. Now’s your chance. Kill me. Save yourself and your precious mutt.”

She was trying. Kagome was damn near outwardly begging for her powers to work with her. Just once - just fucking once - come through her hands, her skin, anything. Follow the wave through the surface of her flesh. But, nothing was coming. The puppet squeezed her waist tighter and Kagome cried out, but still she tried to utilize that point in her body. She could feel something there. She could feel her powers bubbling where she was being strained, and she pushed, and pushed.

Let it out! Let it out, little bird!

“What a shame.” Naraku lamented. “Who’s pathetic?”

Kagome didn’t have time for this. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, let him win. Reaching behind her, she grabbed an arrow, swiveling the head forward in her fingers and jabbing it into Naraku’s neck.

The demon smiled. The girl was too flustered to apply enough force into her attack. Her powers ran deep, but just an inch further and she would have actually struck his “heart,” protected within his abdomen. It was too bad she’d fallen short. He waited as his body regenerated, plucking the arrowhead from his throat with a disturbed grunt.

“I don’t bleed.” He said, jerking her forward to hover just a couple of inches from his face. His tone died down to a gruff whisper, red eyes staring directly into her stricken irises. “But, you do. Don’t you? How should I do it? Should I make you cry first? Or, would you prefer something quick? Either works for me.”

“You won’t win this.” Kagome whispered, trembling. She was petrified, her heart was pounding, and a thick lump formed in her throat as she felt like the worst was about to happen. It was weird, the way fear would sit in your chest. It made you feel light but jittery, like you should scream to release some of that sensation but you physically couldn’t.

“Famous last words.” Naraku said, stroking the back of his finger over Kagome’s cheek. “How could you possibly take on the real thing if you couldn’t even defeat a puppet, though?”

No. He wasn’t right. They were going to win this.

Weren’t they?

Naraku was moving her over the edge of the cliff, and she fidgeted, gasped, shuddered.

Kagome wasn’t done fighting. She hadn’t seen this through yet. This was just a threat, and she was going to pull out of it. But, why did she get the leadened feeling that she wasn’t?

Why did Kagome suddenly feel so afraid that she couldn’t even breathe anymore?

She heard a sigh, a groan, and Kagome’s attention shifted to Inuyasha as he was coming to, blinking his golden eyes open as he pushed himself up onto his forearms.

Inuyasha was trying to reattain his bearings. His head was throbbing, and blood had gotten into his eye as he opened it, burning. He was still being restrained, his lower body pinned to the ground from the hips down. The battle wasn’t over. How long was he out? Why didn’t he hear Kagome? Where was Kagome?

He blinked some more, stabilizing his lungs as he pushed past the bleary state he was in. At the ledge, held over in a twisted grasp of tendrils, he found her. She wasn’t entirely clear, but he could make out the setting.

And, his stomach dropped.

His vision settled then, and Inuyasha stared on as Naraku grinned, holding Kagome’s life over the edge of the cliff.

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#man #talk about a cliff hanger #lololol don't hate me #I had to make the joke before anybody else did #anyway #also #kagome #kagome higurashi #inukag #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag fanfiction #monster #akitokihojo

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 4 years ago

Text

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 11

A/N: Part 11 is finally finished lovelies! Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list! 🖤🔮🖤

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, violence, and blood

It felt as if time was slowing down as Sam’s phone kept vibrating, everyone’s eyes trained on him awaiting to hear who was on the other line. Zemo had sat back down beside you and you leaned into him to keep up your act, and as you glanced at his profile, you saw that he was deep in thought, probably running the scenario through his head.

“Answer it. On speaker.” Selby ordered as she had stood up, staring at Sam in the eye while she pointed at him. She was really starting to get on your nerves now and you wanted nothing more than to get out of there.

You locked eyes with Sam as he grabbed his phone out of his pocket and answered it. “Hello?”

“Hey, um, we need to talk about this situation. It’s been drivin’ me nuts.” You heard Sarah’s voice on the other line.

Shit. You were fucked.

Licking your lips, you used your telepathic abilities to tap into Zemo and Bucky’s brain, your eyes following Selby as she started to stroll around the room.

“Hey guys.”

You watched how Zemo and Bucky’s eyes shifted to you when hearing your voice, only to see you looking to the floor without ever opening your mouth.

“Relax, it’s me. Don’t look at me and act like nothing is happening.” You gave them a cautionary look. “I’m sorry to have to get into your heads, but we are in deep shit and this isn’t going to end well. Just think about what you want to say and we can communicate from there.”

“You’re....you’re in our heads?” You heard Zemo’s thoughts.

“Yes, I already said that.”

“So.....how are we supposed to get out of this one?” Bucky asked.

“Well at this rate, There is no other way than to fight our way out. We’re about to have a large bounty on our heads.”

“Y/n is right.” Zemo added. “We must be prepared.”

“You got any plans Zemo?” You asked him.

“Just make it out alive.”

You nodded your head slightly, signaling that you were prepared for what was about to happen next. Selby had crossed behind the sofa you and Zemo sat on, dragging her fingers through the top of the back part of the sofa. You could’ve sworn you felt her wretched fingers graze over your bare shoulder and through your hair as she passed by, making you straighten up in repulsion and clutch the seat of the couch with balled fists, accidentally brushing the side of your exposed thigh against Zemo’s in the process. Zemo side glanced at you after feeling your thigh brush against his, seeing you shift in your seat with an uncomfortable look hidden on your face. And from the way Selby had now crossed over to his side of the Sofa, he knew what had happened to upset you. Sam and Bucky saw the whole thing, the way she laid her fingers on you made their skin crawl, they clenched their fists as they were more than ready to get you out of this hellhole and to a safer place.

“What situation exactly are you talkin’ about?” Sam cleared his throat as he planned out what to say while trying to stay in character.

“Are you high? You know what situation, it’s the only situation me and you have.” You could hear the irritation in Sarah’s voice as you studied the faces of everyone around you, honing in on their vital signs to where you could almost see their heart beat, blood flow, and rise in body temperature. Their bodies released an odor that you were all too familiar with, that near acidic smell, adrenaline. You saw it pump through their veins as the guards hovered their fingers over the triggers of their guns. They were already starting to have doubts about the four of you.

“What situation, Sarah? Say it.”

“The damn boat. And watch your tone. Okay? I let you slide at the bank.”

“The bank.” Sam scoffed before chuckling lightly. “Yeah. Laundered so much. Yeah, they’ll come around.”

“If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out, Big Time?”

As every exchange between Sam and Sarah went by, the more your hands itched to grab your dagger as you waited for the precise moment to strike. You could practically hear your heartbeat and the clock on the wall drowning out the sound of everything else in the room, the clicking of the hand second by second, as if taunting you about the little amount of time you had left.

“Yeah, you damn right I’m Big Time. You’ll see when I have that banker killed.” Sam stared straight ahead. You could already tell from his face that he was not at all confident about how this was going to go down.

“Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this! Sam, I’m sorry. I’ll call you back.”

Fuck.

“Sam?” Selby looked at the four of you. “Who’s Sam? Kill them!”

Bang! There was the sound of a gunshot and shattered glass, and the next thing you knew, Selby was shot in front of you, her coat now spreading with blood from the wound in her chest as she fell to the floor dead, right when you were about to run your dagger through her yourself. You couldn’t find sight of who the shooter was as one of the security sent a dead center shot towards Zemo’s head. You widened your eyes and shot your arm out in front of Zemo’s face, the bullet bouncing off your metal cuff with a sizzling sound and falling to the floor in a crumbled ball. Thank the gods for Olympian steel. Zemo and the security guard gave you a surprised look from how you just deflected the shot, giving you the chance to slip up the slit of your dress to grab your dagger. You threw your dagger at the guard, watching it fly through the air before hitting him straight in the chest, making him fall over.

You and Zemo jumped up from the couch as two more guards shot at you in the process, more bullets falling to the floor as you deflected them all. Zemo grabbed the gun of one of them before hitting him in the head with it, knocking him out cold. You charged at the other one, pulling your sword out from your back before raising it above you and bringing it down in a diagonal motion, slicing the guard across the chest. You winced as some of the blood had splattered on your face, causing you to wipe it off with the back of your hand. Bucky and Sam had taken care of the other two before going off to the other side of the room. You shoved your sword down on the floor so that it stood upright before kneeling over to take your heels off. Sam, Bucky, and Zemo stared at you in shock from what you did as you headed over to them barefoot with your sword in one hand, stopping to stoop over one of the dead guards to pull your dagger out of his chest before giving it a flick to get rid of the blood.

“What the hell was that? You had a sword with you this whole time?” Sam hissed.

“Never mind that. We have bigger problems. They’re going to pin this on us.” You breathed out as you slipped your sword back on your back and your dagger back on the strap on your thigh.

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Zemo sighed before heading out as you followed him.

You heard the sound of everyone’s phone notification going off, telling them of Shelby’s death and the bounty on your heads.

“This is not good.” Zemo mentioned as he glanced at everyone, some who now had their eyes following you.

Bullets went flying over your head as people approached you with their guns out, shooting at you.

“Shit!” Sam shouted as he and the others ducked.

“More guns?” You rolled your eyes. Using your powers, your eyes returned to their natural Olympian color before glowing a bright violet as you created a shield in front of you to protect you and the three, the bullets disintegrating when coming into contact with your shield. Your eyes widened as you looked down at your hands in horror and saw how they were starting to change to an unnatural death like color, slowly starting to spread up your arms in a vein like manner while your hands had become almost claw like with sharp pointed nails. Oh no. This was not good, you didn’t need the others seeing this. Cursing under your breath with a flick of your wrist, you used your powers to throw the attackers into a nearby wall before letting your shield disappear. You glanced down at your hands with a bit of relief as you saw them return to their natural skin tone. This was definitely not good and you needed to get it sorted out before they found out.

“Let’s go!” You told them as you started to run, down the crime ridden street, not even caring that you weren’t wearing any shoes but cursing under your breath for your choice of not wearing a bra because of the damned dress, making you press your arm over them to hold them in place.

“I can’t run in these heels!” You heard Sam say as he struggled to keep up.

Your heart was pounding as you ran from the people after your heads, the sound of gunshots echoing in the streets. Making sure to stay in front of Bucky, Sam, and Zemo, you used a combination of defense and offense, lighting up the streets in flashes of violet as you blocked off the bullets and threw bolts of energy through your attackers. All the while being cautious of maintaining your appearance. As you came to a small clearing, you found yourself surrounded before more gunshots were heard, but this time they were directed at your attackers, the bullets coming from one of the windows of the buildings.

“You seem to have a guardian angel.” Zemo spoke up as he looked around with a gun in his hand after shooting one of the attackers himself.

“Well, this is too perfect.” You heard a woman approach with a gun pointed at Zemo, using one of her hands to drop her hood. “Drop it, Zemo.”

“Sharon?” You caught your breath as you furrowed your brows at her, surprised to see her. You never had the chance to meet her but you were wondering what she was doing here.

“You cost me everything.” Sharon spoke as she stopped with her gun still pointed at Zemo.

“Sharon, wait.” Sam stepped in front to try to explain everything. “Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.”

“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.”

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky asked her.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass, so that you could save his ass from his ass.” You watched from the side with a raised brow as Sharon pointed at all three of them. “I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up. So I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

“Don’t blow smoke. I was on the run, too.” Sam tried to reason.

“Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore. I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.” Sharon remarked before looking over at you, squinting her eyes as she tried to figure out where she saw you. “Sorry, you’re y/n right? You worked with Thor? What do you have to do with all this?”

“Sam needed my help, Sharon.” You explained. “We could use yours, it would mean a lot.”

Sharon thought it over, looking between you and the others.

“Please.” Bucky added.

“This isn’t over.” Sharon let out a sigh. “I have a place in High Town. You’ll be safe there for a while.”

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well.” Sam noted as he took in the interior of the building once you all stepped in after the car ride there.

Your gut was telling you there was something fishy about Sharon that you just couldn’t pinpoint just yet, but you wanted to trust her. You raised a brow at the artwork that was displayed. So Sharon was selling stolen artwork now? You didn’t pay much mind to the details of the area as you followed Sharon through. You were much too focused on washing the blood and makeup off your face as well as changing into something more comfortable. But the one thing you couldn’t get your mind off of was what happened earlier when you were using your powers. It was definitely not a good sign and you were scared of the answers you would get once you searched deeper into it.

“I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I’ll get for a real Monet?” Sharon mentioned as she turned to Sam.

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monets.”

“No. She means real.” Zemo affirmed after he had taken a look around. “This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.”

“It’s true.” Bucky added to Zemo’s comment. “You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.”

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” Sam was on his phone, obviously trying to search up to confirm what they said was true.

“Yeah. What’s Google say?”

“No shit.”

“You guys need to change. I’m hosting clients in an hour.” Sharon suggested once you had entered her living area.

“Hey Sharon.” You faced her. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hall on the left.”

“Thanks.” You gave her a kind smile before heading to it and locking the door behind you. The men’s eyes followed you as you went into the bathroom, they had noticed how quiet you were on the ride here and how you seemed to be deep in thought, and they were wondering what had happened to have you upset like this. Was it the whole situation with Selby? Were you enraged at them for putting you into this mess?

You had turned on the faucet in the bathroom, letting the water run for a bit as you stared down at your hands once more, as if you were afraid they’d return to that same appearance of death, resembling hands that might have belonged to a demon or an animal. You cursed under your breath as you washed the blood off your face, chest, and arms. As if you didn’t have enough to stress over already. Reaching your hand into your dress pocket, you pulled out your bag that you had shrunk to make it easier to bring along, returning it to it’s normal size so you could pull out a fresh pair of clothes. You changed into your Smashing Pumpkins shirt, a pair of jeans and your docs, throwing on a black leather jacket on top before putting your old attire and sword away. You decided to keep your dagger on you, strapping it to the back of your waist through the slot you had on your belt to help conceal it. As you rummaged through your bag, you grabbed your bracers and strapped them on your arms, concealing them underneath your jacket. At this point you needed to be prepared. Once you were done you returned your bag to a miniature size with a spell, slipping it in your jacket pocket before walking out of the bathroom. You had put on your brave face so questions wouldn’t arise about your behavior as you went to return to where the others were gathered.

“What’d I miss?” You asked as you approached them, politely declining the glass of liquor Sharon offered you.

“Nothing important.” Bucky answered your question. “You didn’t miss much.”

“Yeah?” You raised a brow amusingly as you crossed your arms. “Sounded like bickering to me. You three always have a bone to pick with each other. I could hear you from inside the bathroom..........I’m kidding, relax. Just trying to lighten up the mood.”

“Sharon might be able to find out how to locate our lead.” Zemo caught you up with everything that happened while you were cleaning up in the bathroom.

“Well,” Sharon noted as she got up from the sofa. “I sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay outta trouble. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Trouble.” Zemo added with a smirk.

“Thank Sharon.” You smiled at her, silently dreading having to go to yet another party. It wasn’t that you didn’t like parties, you weren’t a fan of crowds. And if you were being honest, you wanted nothing more than to eat an entire cheese pizza all by yourself and crash out on the floor at this point. You were exhausted to say the least, and starving. Using your powers had strangely drained some energy out of you and you didn’t know what the cause could be. This had never happened to you before.

Loud bass music filled your ears, making the ground beneath you vibrate with each beat as you arrived at the party downstairs with the others, the dim lights flashing against your face as you followed behind Sam towards the bar. You asked the bartender for a glass of cold water and sat on the barstool, watching people dance in close proximities of each other, your mind still fantasizing about the cheesiest pizza you could be having right now, causing your stomach to grumble.

“I can see you two aren’t a fan of parties.” Sam smirked as he looked at the bored expressions on you and Bucky’s faces. “Mr. I-Only-Listen-To-40s-Music and Ms. I-Only-Listen-To-Beethoven.”

“Beethoven was a genius.” You remarked. “Also, classical music is not the only thing I listen to. I listen to other stuff as well.”

“Yeah, like rock. And about that. I can’t believe you did acid.” Sam quipped as Zemo and Bucky’s eyes were on you now, curious to hear your response.

“Oh for fucks sake Sam. This was back in the 60s. Give me a break. Shit didn’t work anyways.”

“Wait. How the hell, do you take acid and it has no effect on you?”

“Well it’s the same thing as not being able to get drunk Sam. Now stop interrogating me.” You explained before setting your glass of water down on the counter. “Give me a minute guys. I gotta make a phone call.”

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, trying to head outside to where it was much quieter as you searched for the nearest pizza place. Your head was starting to throb from the lack of nutrition and the loud music and bright lights definitely wasn’t helping. You were going to have a damn cheese pizza and no one was going to stop you. Before you could even reach the entrance you felt a pair of strong arms grab your jacket, pulling you into the empty hallway nearby. You dropped your phone out of panic, your self defense mode kicking in as you grabbed the bulky arm of your unknown attacker and twisted it behind his back before shoving him against the wall of the hallway, creating a crack from the impact. The large man grunted from the force you exerted as you pulled out your dagger, setting the sharp blade against his throat, his face hidden from your view due the shadow cast over him.

“You better start talking asshole. You have picked the wrong time to fuck with me.” You growled between gritted teeth, shoving him against the wall again to get him to talk. “Answer me you shit!”

“Easy kid.” The man spoke with a gruff voice, grunting from your tight hold on him. “Is this how you treat an old friend?”

The grip you had on the man loosened, your hand that held your dagger to his throat dropping down to your side as you stared at the back of the man’s head like a deer in headlights. You recognized that voice.

“Logan?”

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lucifermorningstark666 · 4 years ago

Text

Date with the Devil😈- Lucifer x reader

Hi darlings, This is a Lucifer fanfic written by me. You can also check it out on Wattpad (Megalomaniac_123, Book Name- Y/N's Handsome Devil). Love you all..🥰.

===============================================

Doctor, I have something to tell you urgently." Lucifer said, barging into Linda's office.

"Oh my God..." Linda said, shocked.

"Wrong deity, I'm afraid" Lucifer scoffed.

" Lucifer, we don't have an appointment.. and you can't barge in like this" Linda said, strictly.

"Doctor, but this is a serious matter I need to discuss." Lucifer said frantically.

Linda sighed.

" Alright Lucifer, have a seat." Linda said, directing her hand towards her couch.

" Thank you Doctor. It's very noble of you." Lucifer said.

" What's your earth-shattering problem, Lucifer?" Linda asked.

" Doctor, it's about Y/N. She asked me on a date." Lucifer said.

" Is this really your urgent matter?.Y/N has accepted who you truly are..and I don't see any problem here.." Linda said.

"Doctor, Y/N really cares about me. I hate that I am poison to anyone who dares to care about me. Their lives will always be at risk...and..um..I really don't want to lose her because of my reckless behaviour..." Lucifer said, sadly.

" Lucifer, I know that's not the real reason." Linda said, with a small smile.

" You are afraid, aren't you?" Linda asked.

" I am the Devil, Doctor. I am not afraid of anyone...you of all people, know it." Lucifer scoffed.

"Lucifer, I know that you are not afraid of anybody...but that's not my point..." Linda said.

"Doctor, I don't understand where you are going with this?" Lucifer said, with a puzzled look on his face.

" Lucifer, my point is, you are afraid of intimacy and I know that, the feeling of love from someone is something new to you, an experience which you have never felt anywhere." Linda said, with a light chuckle.

" Doctor, what am I supposed to do?" Lucifer asked.

"Lucifer,go on a date with Y/N. She has changed a lot in you. Saying no to her, will hurt her feelings and I know that's not what you want. You have a habit of sabotaging everything good that has happened to you, so don't spoil this opportunity." Linda smiled.

" You are right, Doctor. Maybe, it's time for me to change.I'll give it a try and see what happens." Lucifer said, with a beautiful smile.

" Alright, problem solved." Linda chuckled.

" Yes, thank you Doctor. You are a real life-saver." Lucifer said, getting up from her couch.

" You are so welcome, Lucifer." Linda smiled.

"Goodbye, Doctor. So, date with Y/N it is" Lucifer said.

" Goodbye, Lucifer." Linda said.

As soon as, Lucifer got out of Linda's office, he went to see Y/N.

Y/N's HOME

" Love, so..um..I was thinking about our date. Why not give it a try?...Shall we meet up at my penthouse this evening or do you have any other suggestions in your mind?" Lucifer said.

"I am very happy to hear this, Lucifer. I was afraid that you wouldn't be accepting my offer. So, we'll meet at the penthouse." Y/N said.

"So, I'll make arrangements for our date, darling." Lucifer said, with a glimmering smile.

" Bye, darling. Take care." Lucifer said.

"Goodbye, Lucifer." Y/N said, placing a small kiss on Lucifer's cheek.

EVENING AT LUCIFER'S PENTHOUSE

Lucifer decorated his penthouse with ( flower color)( favourite flower). He set up the table neatly with scented-candles and flowers.

After he finished decorating the penthouse and setting the table, he went to get ready. He decided to wear a sky-blue three-piece suit with a white pocket square. He combed his hair neatly and applied his favourite scent.

The elevator bell rung and the doors opened.

It was Y/N.

She wore a lovely (color) mini sleeveless dress. Her splendid (hair color) (straight/curly/wavy) hair was untied. She wore (high/flat) (color) color heels.Her plumpy lips were smeared with a ravishing shade of red.The strong lovely smell of her perfume lingered around penthouse.

" Good evening, love. My, my, you actually look stunning .I have never seen anything as wonderful as you ,neither in Hell nor Silver City." Lucifer said, admiring your beauty.

You blushed and said," You are not bad yourself, Lucifer. You look handsome like always."

" Wow..the penthouse looks so lovely. You decorated it with my favourite flowers....it's beautiful. Thanks a lot Lucifer, I can't believe you did all this for me." Y/N said, adoring the beauty of the penthouse.

" Anything for you, love." Lucifer smiled.

" Please have a seat, milady." Lucifer said, directing his hand towards the neatly set-up table.

Like a gentleman, he pulled out the chair for Y/N to sit on.

After ensuring Y/N's comfort, he sat on the chair facing Y/N's seat.

" I hope you love (favourite food) " Lucifer said, opening the silver-domes that covered the food.

" You ordered my favourite food.." Y/N said, surprised.

" Correction darling, I made it myself. I would love to know what you think about my cooking skills." Lucifer chuckled.

Y/N tasted her favourite food which Lucifer made.

" Never knew that ,the Devil had such impressive cooking skills. " Y/N giggled.

" It took eons to perfect this extracurricular skill of mine, darling" Lucifer said with a glimmering smile.

Lucifer poured drinks for both, him and Y/N.

"Darling, I just want to ask you something, out of my curiosity. I don't know whether it's the right occasion to ask you this." Lucifer said, hesitantly.

" Do ask me, Lucifer. Now you are making me curious to know your question.." Y/N chuckled.

"I recently made a devilish revelation to you." Lucifer said.

"Hmm...what about that?" Y/N asked with a small smile, her eyes filled with curiosity.

"Even after you knew that, I really am the Devil, you loved me...I mean ,history has painted a quite awful picture of me...Despite all that, you still love me..why?" Lucifer said, with a confused look on his face.

" Lucifer, that's because you were never the bad guy in my story...you have always protected and cared about me...even if you were the bad guy like the one history has painted, you are not that now...despite all your flaws, deep down below I know there is goodness in you..." Y/N said with a beautiful subtle smile on her face.

She locked her fingers with his.

" I hope you are satisfied with my answer." Y/N chuckled.

" I really am." Lucifer said with a light giggle.

Y/N got up from her seat and got to Lucifer's side.

"What is it, darling?. Do you want something..sweet,perhaps?" Lucifer chuckled, still confused by Y/N's move.

"Lucifer, close your eyes." Y/N said in a soft tone.

Lucifer closed his eyes.

Y/N closed her eyes and slowly pasted her tender lips on to his. The warmth from Y/N's lips comforted Lucifer from all the pain he had been experiencing throughout his life. She gently touched his face with her delicate fingers. He gently pulled her waist and made her sit on his lap, without breaking the kiss. The subtle kiss turned into a passionate one, their tongues slid into each other's mouth and started to wiggle.Y/N's moans were music to Lucifer's ears.

She gently removed her lips from his and opened her eyelids. He also opened his eyes. They looked in each other's eyes and smiled.Without breaking the eye contact, Lucifer gently ran his fingers on Y/N's face. She blushed and kissed his neck.

" Well, you asked me if I wanted something sweet and the sweet which you gave me with your lips is satisfactory...no dessert required." Y/N laughed.

Lucifer laughed along with her.

" Love, you have really good sense of humour." Lucifer said, still laughing.

"Thank you, but it is you who should be taking that compliment." Y/N chuckled.

"Lucifer, I really enjoyed our date.You made me really happy." Y/N said, still sitting on his lap and gentle running her fingers through his hair.

" Me too, darling. I feel overwhelmed." Lucifer chuckled.

"So..um..can we meet up again on some other day?" Y/N asked.

" Yes,how can I decline my ravishing Y/N's offer."Lucifer smiled.

"So..next time, can we meet up at my house, if you are comfortable with that arrangement."Y/N said.

"Yes, definitely..." Lucifer said.

" Lucifer, it's getting late. I need to head home as I have to go to work early tomorrow. I really enjoyed your company." Y/N said, getting up from Lucifer's lap.

" Yes, I understand, darling. I'll drop you home." Lucifer said.

" Thank you, Lucifer." Y/N smiled.

Y/N's PLACE

After getting out of Lucifer's car , Y/N said " Lucifer,don't forget next date at my house, OK?"

" Yes darling, how can I forget." Lucifer said.

"Um..Lucifer, for our next date..there is...um..a small modification." Y/N said , hesitantly.

"Surprise me, darling." Lucifer said.

" Next time, along with dinner, what about a sleepover?" Y/N winked and bit her lower lip.

" Ho ho ho...why not?" Lucifer said seductively, a naughty smile forming on his lips.

"Goodnight, Lucifer" Y/N said, placing a small peck on his lips.

" Goodnight, darling." Lucifer smiled.

After Y/N headed back to her home, Lucifer messaged Linda.

Doctor, my date with Y/N went well. It was a wonderful experience. I would have really regretted if I hadn't taken your advice. Thank you so much, Doctor. Will give an elaborate description about my date with Y/N for our next session.

============================================

Do let me know what you think about this piece..🤗. If you liked this, pls hit a like..❤.

#lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #fluffy #lord of hell #prince of darkness #netflix lucifer #fox lucifer #linda martin #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer x you #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer one shot #romance #love #devil x reader #mine

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thatslikely · 4 years ago

Text

Monster - R.L.

Monster- (Young) Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader (unspecified house)

Warnings: descriptions of blood and violence

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I don’t normally write for the Marauders, but this was a special request for my best friend Ocean, who has stood by my side for as long as I can remember. I love you Ocean <3

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name, and thoughts/flashbacks are in italics.

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @probably-peeves @anchoeritic @theweasleytwinsgirl

if you want to be added to my general or character-specific taglist, send me a dm or an ask!

----

Remus Lupin was a monster; a hideous beast deserving of nothing but a depressing life. A creature doomed to an eternity of rightfully earned misery and isolation. He was nothing more than a savage, barbaric werewolf.

Y/N, Y/L/N was a gorgeous and effervescent girl, who seemingly had the whole world rooting for her. She was exceptionally astute, a skilled and hallowed prefect, and unimaginably beautiful in every sense of the word. Someone who deserved nothing but the best.

While Remus would never believe it, he was the exact antithesis of a monster. To his friends, and to his great surprise, you, he was an altruistic, solicitous, and perceptive boy. A boy who you loved with every fiber of your being. A boy who needed to learn to love himself.

No matter what actions you took or words you sang, Remus sat in denial of your true feelings for him.

“But… why would you love someone like me? You already figured out that I’m a werewolf. I’m a monster, Y/N. You deserve so more than I could ever give to you,” Remus stated somberly. His eyes glistened with tears and were distinctly tinged with self-loathing. His normally soft, caramel locks were disheveled, and his worn Gryffindor uniform was wrinkled.

“Moony,” you started, Remus flinching at the nickname spilling from your lips, “I don’t care that you’re a werewolf. You’re breathtaking to me all the time, full moon or not. You have to understand, you’re not a monster! You’re someone I love. Someone I can’t live without.”

With the last sentence escaping your mouth with a plea, the tears that had been brewing in Remus’ eyes finally dripped down his face freely. He looked so broken, all the concrete walls that he had built up for so long crumbling under your acceptance and love. He was completely and utterly vulnerable.

He couldn’t be bothered to smudge away the translucent tears staining his cheeks, instead his arms instinctively reached to you like an infant, for a tight hug. He clung to your body like a lifeline; your soft and delicate skin drenched with a well-kept cardigan pressed into his aching chest. You felt so comforting in his arms, he could’ve held you forever.

“Y/N… I love you.”��

The Great Hall was packed to the rafters with students adorned in varicolored robes, laughs and conversations dancing in one ear and out the other. The ancient, wooden tables were enveloped with pearly plates of every size, each supporting sky-scraping mounds of delicious house elf-made food. You promptly took the vacant seat next to Remus, reserved courtesy of himself, excited to see him after an endless day of droning professors.

James and Sirius were already plotting some sort of devious scheme, probably directed at their fierce rival, a raven-haired fellow fifth year named Severus Snape. You and Remus never became involved with the dastardly pranks, however, instead opting for unbiased pacifism. While a beady-eyed Peter was eagerly lapping up James’ and Sirius’ plans like ice-cold water in a desert, your stunning eyes lovingly locked with Remus’ handsome, mahogany ones.

You were quick to notice that Remus’ loaded plate of food remained untouched all dinner, contrasting the hefty meal residing in your own stomach. The full moon was approaching quickly, and there was no doubt he was worried out of his wits. You subtly motioned for him to pick at his plate, to no avail.

If only he would allow you to comfort him about his monthly transformations. He had always been quick to shut down discussion of anything related to the lupine side of him, no matter how much you begged on your hands and knees for him to open up.

“Remus, you really should eat. It’ll make you feel better, I promise,” you said with a concerned smile. The already troubled expression he wore fell even lower.

“I��m not hungry,” he said softly with strict finality. His face was painted with worry and guilt, a familiar but unpleasant sight. Once he noticed your gaze remained locked on him, he hastily covered up his unhappy expression with a small pseudo-smile.

“Can you at least have a bite of chocolate?” you asked, grabbing a small chuck of delicious candy from a wrapper in your robe pocket. You extended your sugar-filled hand to him expectantly, and he obliged, grabbing the cracked square with annoyance. Once he started chewing on the sweet chocolate, however, his nerves relaxed and his demeanor softened.

“Where’d you get this stuff, darling? Tastes quite good,” he asked, his words barely distinguishable thanks to the silky chocolate that filled his scarred cheeks. The nervous look that previously resided on his face was completely erased, a goofy grin triumphantly taking over.

“I’ll tell you, only if you swear to eat at least a little bit of your dinner,” you said motherly, gesturing your hands towards his plate of cold food. He emitted a sarcastic grumble before spooning some cold mashed potatoes into his mouth. He tried, and failed, to hide his gagging at the taste of the cold mush on his tongue, but he persevered, swallowing a few bites.

“I believe I owe you some chocolate,” you said satisfied, this time removing the whole bar from your inky black cloak pocket. You ensured the bar was wrapped nicely before gingerly giving it to a giddy Remus.

“Now, where can I get myself some of this? They don’t sell it at Honeydukes, do they?” he questioned, before breaking off a bit of the milky chocolate, promptly popping it into his mouth. He kindly shared some extra squares with the other three Marauders, ‘thanks’ repeatedly passed his way.

“It’s homemade, straight from Mum’s kitchen. I get sent some just about every Sunday, so it looks like I’m your only source. Bummer.”

“Oh well. I suppose it’s worth it.” Remus rolled his eyes jokingly, sending a thankful squeeze to your interlocked fingers.

The rest of dinner flowed along effortlessly.

----

Your droopy eyes languidly peeled open, revealing the lazy golden rays of light dancing across the stone walls of your cluttered dorm. The repulsive taste of mucus lingered at the back of your throat, an unwelcome side effect of your restless sleep.

Tonight was the night of the dreaded full moon.

Violent images of a bloody and wounded Remus flashed through your brain, causing a pained whimper to escape your throat. It always shattered your heart to see Remus returning back from a transformation, beaten, limping and broken.

He made every effort to conceal himself returning in that state, cautiously darting to the Hospital wing, not wanting you to see, and subsequently pity him. But unknown to him, the tucked-away broom closet parallel to Madam Pomfrey’s provided a miniscule glance of his disheveled self every dangerously moonlit night.

You sluggishly got up from your bed, a bone-creaking stretch of your arms coupling with a sloth-like yawn following suit. You trudged through quicksand to the bathroom, quickly brushing your teeth to rid your mouth of the unpleasant morning taste that coated your tastebuds.

Not long after, you threw on a comfortable outfit, one of Remus’ worn and oversized t-shirts and some sweatpants. If wearing his clothes could bring him a little joy today, it was worth it.

“I like your shirt today. Looks quite dashing,” you said in a joking tone to the boy sprawled on the crimson-dressed bed below you. Remus was donning a holey, earth-toned t-shirt, topped with a matching unbuttoned, cocoa-colored flannel which complimented his messy mop of hair.

He sat up with an innocent smirk, saying, “It’d look pretty ‘dashing’ on you, too.” Remus’ cheeks gained heat at his bold comment, his mind imagining you wrapped in his clothes. Your goofy smile added to his favorite shirt would be near perfect.

“Wanna test your theory?” you casually asked, tiny droplets of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You were always a bit flustered around Remus, but the prospect of his shirt was too alluring to pass up.

His face morphed into a slightly mischievous grin, and his hands quickly tore off the flannel overshirt that complimented the coveted top underneath. “Turn around for a second.”

You cocked your eyebrow in surprise before complying, pivoting your body away from the changing Remus. You envisioned his bare torso, dotted with sore scars. The exciting ruffling of clothes played behind you in a whisper.

Your eyes begged to sneak a peek, but they listened to Remus’ request, remaining clamped shut until he signaled, “Okay, you can look now.”

The prized brown shirt laid scrunched-up in his lap, his hands busily buttoning the few top buttons of his flannel, which was now stretched across his whole chest. After the flannel was fitted to his satisfaction, he tossed you the shirt with an amused smile.

You promptly slipped it over your head, the familiar and angelic smell of Remus brushing your nostrils. The shirt fit like a potato sack on your body, but to him, you looked ethereal.

Remus wasn’t seen all day, for he was locked up in his dorm, rotting away with anxiety. James, Sirius, and Peter all attempted to get him out of the cage he laid trapped in, but nothing, even the most enticing offers, would make him budge.

He finally emerged from his cave to the common room late into the afternoon, wearing puffy, red eyes with heavy purple bags underneath. You immediately ran to him, arms wrapping tightly around his stiff chest. He released a sigh before reciprocating the hug, a tiny, tired smile, resting on his face.

“Good afternoon to you, too,” he breathily muttered in your ear. Your whole body sprang up with goosebumps at the feeling of his warm breath hitting your skin.

“I’ve been worried sick about you.” Your soft, relieved voice rang through his ears, guilt panging his heart.

“Don’t ever worry about me, honey. I’ll always be okay, and here for you.”

After stepping back from the solacing embrace, the other Marauders were quick to check on him. You stood away from their tight circle by the fire, simply admiring the laugh escaping Remus’ lips at one of James’ jokes.

He’ll be okay, you comfortably told yourself, He’ll always be okay.

However, you failed to consider your own safety.

----

The pale strips of moonlight that shone through the window illuminated your glassy, saucer eyes, accompanied by your heart rapidly banging in your chest like a fast-tempoed timpani. Your arms vibrated with fear, and your ears remained steadily perked, listening for any stray howls reverberating from the Shrieking Shack.

You had tried your best to think positively: at least after tonight, he won’t worry for a while, but the images of a currently suffering Remus swam in your head, swiftly extinguishing your optimism.

Lupine-esque whimpers echoed through your brain, accompanying the ghastly memories of a bloodied Remus, causing your stomach to churn like the sea in a thunderstorm. You were plagued with such intense worry and guilt that you refused to remain idle in your dorm any longer.

If he remained abandoned by you every full moon, the scars that accented his skin would come back even more profound than last month. His chest would be drenched in his own blood, a familiar but nauseating sight. His leg would wobble to class every day just as badly, his knee sore and rigid. You couldn’t just sit and watch him break and heal again every month. Remus needed help.

You stuffed your feather-filled pillows under the duvet of your four-poster in the rough shape of a human body, hopefully convincing as your own. Then, you proceeded to noiselessly creep through your tranquil dorm, the minute tapping of your slippers on the hardwood blending seamlessly with the regular humming of the ancient castle.

After safely out of the dorms and lifeless common room, you dashed to the Gryffindor tower, careful to avoid the observant eyes of patrolling professors. You softly muttered the password to the half-asleep Fat Lady, who you were well acquainted with thanks to the Marauder’s frequent antics.

You tip-toed up the cold, stone steps to the boy dormitories, promptly arriving at the fifth year dorms. You gave the sturdy, wooden door a light rap, crossing your fingers that the notorious night-owls would open up.

Your desperate wish was soon granted, a worried James peeling open the door, revealing the rest of the Marauders sitting in a circle on the rug behind him. “What’s up?” He whispered, a glint of mischief still present in his eyes, “you worried about Moony, too?”

“N- well yes, but I’m not here for a group therapy session. I need your cloak. The invisible one,” you quietly stated, confident and determined.

“What could you possibly be up to? Something tells me it’s not just a trip to the kitchens.” James looked considerably more suspicious, his knuckles’ grip tightening on the door. Sirius got up from his spot on the floor, approaching the door frame.

“Er- just give me the cloak, please? I can’t sit around knowing he’s suffering alone out there. Not anymore.” Your eyes threatened to fill with tears, but you successfully fought to keep them under control.

“Y/N, is this really the best idea? I know you two are ‘in love or whatever’ but is it worth dying for? You and I both know the danger of his condition.” You winced at James’ words before stubbornly nodding, determined to leave with the cloak.

“At least let us go with you. I don’t think Moony would want his girlfriend dying, especially if it was his fault.” Sirius snatched his wand and coat from the nightstand, ready to accompany you to the lupine love of your life.

“I’m sure that there’s no way in hell I could stop you guys, but, please, don’t worry about me. I’m a perfectly capable witch, believe it or not.”

James uneasily handed you the cloak while Sirius gave you a comforting pat on the back. You turned away from the dorm, your mind set on the Shrieking Shack.

----

The fierce wind howled through the towering, spiky trees, not soothing your jittery nerves in the slightest. The previously clear, starry sky was now blanketed with inky storm clouds. The ground occasionally rattled with booming thunder, making your tingly legs shake even more.

Your wand was out and eager to spew spells at any unusual sights or sounds, despite knowing that the only real threat, Remus, resided exclusively in the shack. You gradually inched closer to the Whomping Willow, not exhibiting any Gryffindor-ish traits as you did so.

When you were finally within range of it’s murderous branches, you skillfully levitated a rock to perfectly rest on the trunk’s secret pressure-point, paralyzing its wooden limbs without a sweat. You ducked under it’s ancient roots, running towards the demonic barks that echoed in the distance.

You tore the transparent hood off of your shoulders, dropping it on the porch of the dilapidated house. Your vision blurred with fearful tears, but regardless, you pushed the peeling door of the shack open, scared to see what lay inside.

Musty, forgone furniture was haphazardly thrown around what was presumably the den; deep and fresh claw marks mangled the grimy plush of chairs. Moldy tabletops were smashed in, opaque glass windows were shattered into millions of pieces, and there were unsettlingly large paw prints dotting the rotting floor.

“Remus?” you squeaked, your throat tense and withdrawn. Low, animalistic growls could be heard from the second floor, and with a gulp, you slowly ascended the creaky stairs which groaned under your every movement.

“Remus…?” you repeated at the top of the desolate stairs, this time barely audible. “Moony?”

The level was eerily quiet, making you regret your decisions a hundred times over. You scampered forward, the small beam of white light emitted from the tip of your wand growing shaky with fear. He’s up here, somewhere. Thoughts of a suffering Remus drove you to peer through every room, fearfully expecting to find a helpless, balled up werewolf sitting in the corner.

Each battered bedroom lay devoid of life, disregarding the infestation of cockroaches that resided in the decaying walls. Your legs felt numb and uncontrollable as you stepped to the final bedroom at the end of the hallway. Remus must be in here.

You rolled your wrist around, making sure it was pliant in preparation for the spells that would likely need casting. You pushed the unhinged door to the side, ready to face your lupine boyfriend.

Barbaric, unintelligible noises tickled your ears at a low frequency. You walked silently into the room, the quivering grip on your wand increasing. You stepped further and further into the room, towards the bed that lay broken in the center.

A thunderous snarl from the closet jolted you around, invisible tears pouring down your face. “Remus? Remus, come out, it’s m-me.”

Bloodied claws, sharp as daggers, dug into the aged wood, slowly approaching you like a predator sneaking up on its prey. “Remus, its Y/N. Don’t worry. It’s okay, I’m here.”

Inhuman, savage eyes pierced into your own soaked ones. Not an ounce of your boyfriend was left in the shadowy wolf; the way he slinked towards you viciously, the way bubbly drool fell from his twisted snout, the open wounds that characterized his back.

His demeanor showed no signs of recognition, only ferine instincts ruled his primitive mind. “Remus… it's me…” Your voice cracked with heartbreak, a sob escaping afterwards. Silence, save for the deep, drawn out growls from the werewolf.

“REMUS! REMUS, TELL ME YOU REMEMBER ME? PLEASE, REMUS, PLEASE,” you wailed. Maybe you were yelling to get through to him, or maybe just to hear your own voice over your booming heart that drowned out your thoughts.

Remus left you no time to think, let alone act, as your whittled wand thudded to the floor, and the vicious werewolf’s jaw sunk into your delicate collarbone. Sanguine blood splattered extravagantly across the decrepit room, its hauntingly intricate patterns tainting the rickety bed behind you, turning its dusty white sheets a sickly crimson.

A hoarse shriek rattled through your teeth as the feral canines dug deeper into your shredded flesh. Your vision went blurry, not from the tortured tears spilling from your eyes, but from mind-numbing exhaustion. The last thing you saw before collapsing onto the floor with a groan, your mouth contorted open in pain, was a quick flash of black and brown.

----

“Y/N… I’m so sorry.” Your chest vibrated from the lugubrious sobs escaping Remus’ nauseated throat. His lips and chin was crusted with a rusty red waterfall sourced from his now human teeth, his tousled, sweat-drenched hair rested on your heart. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

“I’m a monster.”

Your dried, bloodshot eyes peeled open, taking in the confusing sight that surrounded you. You were crumpled on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, held by a sobbing, gory Remus. A melancholy James, Sirius, and Peter stood further back, taking in the depressing sight before them.

Languid morning rays shone through the opaque glass of the window, the beams perfectly highlighting the slick trails of blood that dried all over your body. Your shirt was torn to shreds, the collar being the most mangled. Your shoulder stung with the pain of a thousand Crucio-curses.

“Remus… what happened?” you croaked, your throat unwilling to cooperate, its texture like sandpaper. His drenched, brown eyes looked up to you in shock, tears falling down his scarred checks even faster. Last night was nothing but a hazy black blur which made your head pound even thinking about it.

“What happened to me, Remus?”

“I turned you. You’re a monster like me now.”

“I-I don’t think I understand…”

“You came to the Shrieking Shack last night to comfort Remus, and well, he bit you. You’re a werewolf now,” Sirius solemnly said, his gaze pointed to his black Doc Martens. Remus soon ran out of tears to cry, his eyes instead spacing out, his mind drowning out your words and touches.

“I turned you into a werewolf. I’ve sentenced you to the same hell that I live. I’m so sorry, there’s nothing we can do. I’m a monster!” Remus shouted, his shaky voice the most depressing thing that’s ever graced your ears. You sat on the floor, wrapped in Remus’ sorrowful embrace, shocked silence filling the mournful room. Tears subconsciously coated your burning cheeks and chin, fusing with the rust-colored, crusted blood, creating a sickly pink waterfall down your face.

“Remus, it’s okay-”

“No, it's not. Not this time, Y/N. It's all my fault,” he cried, “I swore that I would protect you, protect you from that monstrous side of me, and now look. We’re one and the same. Except that I’m a truly vile being deep down. I should be gone.”

“Being a werewolf isn’t some cool superpower or something; it's a disease! It's a ravaging, dangerous, violent disease; it taints everything, it’s inescapable. A disease that the person that matters the most to me now has, and it’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have come to this school in the first place. I don’t deserve any of this. I deserve to die.”

“Remus John Lupin, don’t you dare say that you deserve anything even remotely close to death! I know being a werewolf is going to be difficult, painful, everything, but at least I have someone to help me! At least I have someone who isn’t just going to leave me on the streets and have me fend for myself. I trust you more than anyone, I know it’s going to be okay, okay? You’re far from a monster, Moony. You’re someone I love,” you choked out, your voice fading with pain.

Remus’ eyes found crystalline tears once again, and you held his bloodied head to your chest, allowing his ears to hear your slow heartbeat, cooing, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I love you. It’s going to be okay, I promise. I’ll survive, we’ll survive, together.”

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fly-me-to-neptune · 4 years ago

Text

A new home (1: Arrival of the birds)

―Just throw me. I can break it.

Three seconds later, a loud crash shatters the monotony of the murmuring noise of the city. The apartment is now filled with broken glass and the smell of burnt wood. Aquamarine prepares to enter through the smoking hole in the window.

―Be careful, the shards are very sharp ―advises her partner from inside the building.

She raises her eyebrows. But she shouldn’t be surprised, even less so flattered. After all, the gem with whom she's been fusing, researching human culture, and plotting revenge for the past few months is a ruby, therefore, protective behaviour is to be expected.

―Evidently ―she replies, flying delicately inside.

It’s very spacious, like all the other human residences she’s seen. It’s always quite perplexing to her. “Why is nothing adjusted to their size? Do they dislike having the ceiling close to their heads? Do they usually stretch their arms when walking through a hallway?” she usually wonders. The beryl still can’t fathom the thought of such a big area being a strictly private space. Back in homeworld, only high class gems such as herself would get anything more than a hole in the wall to rest in.

Ruby gives her one last glance before turning away from the window. The blue gem does feel grateful for her companion’s attentiveness, so she silently approaches her and begins to remove the shards that have been tangled in her hair. Not noticing this gesture, her comrade takes her first, cautious steps in what is to become their new home...

No.

Their new hideout. "Homeworld will always be our only true home", the blue gem reminds herself.

Hours earlier, they had come to the conclusion that finding a place to stay, a shelter to train and get stronger as Bluebird and to learn more about earthly customs would be the next step in their plan to get revenge. They had flown here and there, looking for the best place to settle, but they had been incapable of agreeing on any... Until they stumbled upon one of the buildings known as cinemas, of which Mydad had talked wonders about when Bluebird watched movies with him.

―I want to see more of those movies― Ruby had said―. Let’s live here.

―It is true that they are very didactic. One of the most useful things that can be found on this planet, I’d say― Aquamarine replied, not wanting to admit how entertaining she found them as well, even though Ruby was aware of it and even shared her liking for those strange recordings―. However, this is clearly a public space. It’s best if we get one of the residence destined areas around it.

And so they had done.

Aquamarine lets a eager smirk form in her face. Once the right place’s chosen and accessed, any gem will instinctively know it’s time to conquer it, and they’re more than ready to kick out any pesky earthlings that dares to oppose them.

She removes the last fragment of glass from Ruby's hair. The faint sound it makes when it falls to the ground causes the red gem to jump a little and give her a questioning look.

―No need to be so tense ―murmurs the beryl, drawing away and crossing her arms instinctively―. This will be easy. A few organics can't compare to us.

―What’s taking them so long, anyway? ―Ruby summons her chisel and takes a few more steps―. We haven't exactly been stealthy. They should be here by now.

―We might have scored an empty residence compartment.

Ruby’s next reply is barely audible:

―That, or we’re about to be ambushed.

They inspect their surroundings once more, not needing to say another word.

That’s when they notice it. Something distinct from the chaotic noise of cars and voices in the streets can be heard coming from beyond the hallway. Different sounds following the same rhythmic pattern, concurring notes of varying pitches and instruments harmonizing into what is perceived as a single melody. It’s music. Bizarre, terrestrial music, but music nonetheless.

“I never thought about it before. Music is just like fusion, isn’t it?” muses the blue gem, before immediately having to shake off the swarming memories of the time spent with Ruby as Bluebird Azurite.

They advance through rooms of floral wall paper and light wooden floor, filled with all sorts of unfamiliar items, until they reach what, structurally speaking, appears to be the main area. A room much wider and nicely illuminated. It’s where the music is coming from.

And there’s a human, right there, humming along.

She’s sitting in a rocking chair that creaks every so often, undisturbed by the smoke dancing in the cold air current that now connects the invasors’ entrance hole with one of the windows in the room, open by a narrow gap. She’s absorbed on a enigmatic task involving colored fibres.

What’s with her lack of reaction? The music isn’t loud enough to have concealed the crash, not even close! The gems share a puzzled look. The smaller one feels a sudden urge to laugh, but she stops herself in time and just makes a quick grimace to try to express her exasperation at the ―oh, so erratic!― behaviour of Earth’s organics. Ruby smiles widely in response, appearing to be repressing a chuckle herself.

Oh.

Aqua still hasn’t gotten used to seeing her smile. It somehow makes it harder for her to breathe, even if only for a couple of seconds. Perhaps it’s because she would never have expected to see such a gesture coming from who, at first, seemed like a tough, stoic, emotionally closed off ruby soldier; even less so, directed at her. Yet, it has been happening quite often.

She looks away. She wants to breathe like normal again, not think about her companion’s entrancing, dark scarlet eye.

Suddenly feeling impatient, she flies across the room to reveal herself to the human. “Let’s get this over with” she thinks, forcing herself to focus, “I’ll just distract her so Ruby can get the upper hand”. With an acceptable amount of grace, she lands on a small table near the window and, as soon as she turns to directly face the organic, she confirms with a sly glance that the red gem has understood her intentions and is already sneaking towards the creature. The beryl smiles.

―Greetings, human.

No reaction. Again.

Despite its seeming convenience, it’s starting to get annoying for the aristocrat. Be it a positive or negative one, she enjoys getting a reaction out of others, and she’s definitely not used to just being ignored like a simple pebble. Not to mention that the way someone reacts always gives her a lot of valuable information about what could be their usual behaviour, their current state of mind and about how she can assure a position of psychological superiority.

What can she conclude out of this lack of response? She’s not sure. And she doesn’t like not being certain about where she stands in. She detests it.

But she’s not alone against the strange creature. Ruby jumps to the organic’s seat, grabbing one of the wooden bars of its structure to secure a high position and, efficiently as always, points her chisel to her neck. The chair rocks and creaks violently, as if complaining about the roughness of the gem soldier.

Confident in that she isn’t gonna be tuned out this time, the blue gem clears her throat and announces:

―I think you’d be interested in knowing that, from now on, we are taking possession of your cute little residence hole.

―It’s a pretty big one though ―The red gem murmurs, impressed by Aquamarine’s assertion. Tsk, tsk. That’s not the point, Ruby! The point is to make the unresponsive human feel insignificant and intimidated... which seems to still not be working, in any case.

A few awkward seconds pass by.

―I was under the impression human beings were territorial.

―Yeah. This is weird. Besides, she’s not screaming―. Ruby squints as she looks the organic up and down.― And they always scream.

The two gems wait a couple minutes, in which only the music is heard. But the strange creature is really not reacting to them, she just keeps trying to imitate the melody with her own feeble voice as her hands tangle the colored fibers.

Aquamarine finally loses interest. She decides to hover around and examine the objects that catch her eye.

It doesn't take her long to get to the record player.

―Finally. I was getting sick of that noise ―her fusion partner celebrates when Aqua removes the disc to inspect its material.

―What a waste of resources. Look! This barely contains a few minutes of melody,― she explains, running a finger over the markings of the record’s surface―. Why not just use a living human for auditive diversions? They would surely have room for more variety.

Ruby shrugs, not too interested. She continues to grip her chisel, staring menacingly at the organic, who still hasn’t stopped humming despite the interruption of the record’s music.

―Well, y’know. Humans don’t do that. Organics don’t devote themselves to a purpose. ―The frown on Ruby’s face deepens as a gust of wind shakes the curtains and brings in the distant laughter of children―. They just wander around aimlessly.

―Well, if they usually sing this poorly, I suppose that’s for the best ―she giggles―. I’m not made for singing, but I bet I could do it a thousand times better.

At last, she’s caught Ruby’s full attention. She’s looking at her with curiosity shining in her eye. Not that that’s a good thing. She should continue keeping watch of the organic while Aquamarine explores around. There’s no reason for Aqua to sing the earthly melody that’s got stuck on the back of her mind, no reason to try to impress an already agreeable comrade. Right?

And so, the blue gem averts her gaze yet again and both of them fall back into their roles.

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lluvguts · 3 years ago

Text

Cool Blue ; Chapter Two

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

sunlight on your face

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

☽ warnings: none

☽ fic masterlist

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

The sun had crossed Luca's mind many times before, but he was just too afraid to see what it looked like. He'd asked his grandmother what the sun felt like once (or twice, or three times even, Luca had lost count). She would only give her grandson a gentle smile and stick out one hand so Luca's tail would brush along her forearm affectionately.

"That is something for you to find out one day," She winked. "But I'll tell you a little bit about it for now. Sometimes the sun is brilliant and warm on your scales...and other times, it'll burn you." She ended her sentence with another toothy grin and one hand to her breastbone to quiet her knowing laughter.

Luca gaped at her solemnity. "The sun...burns?" He couldn't possibly fathom the idea.

But the sun was so...bright! He imagined it was a big creamy ball in the sky, full of sugar the seeped into the Earth. And the more he mulled it over the harder it was to accept that maybe it wasn't as delightful as he'd dreamed.

"Sure, Bubble," His grandmother chuckled. "It's gotta keep the humans warm somehow, right?"

Luca thought about her answer then. That must be why Alberto smelled so honey-sweet. Nice, he corrected himself. Alberto smelled nice.

But it was the sun dripping all of that sunshine and ardor into Alberto's pores, through the tiny dark spots that spanned across his cheeks and shoulders. Little dashes of the sun. But if he thought over these things too long that fiery sunshine would melt his insides into a pitiful pool of need to see him again and Luca decided not to ask her anymore.

He was a good kid, after all. He didn't need these infectious ideas running through his head.

Luca passed by the herd of goatfish, all grumbling and surrounded in swarms of their own bubbles. He swam by Giuseppe, clearly the favored one, and gave him an endearing pat before glancing over his shoulder. It seemed as though his grandmother had distracted Luca's parents for the time being with some obscure task that he knew granted him a few hours of precious alone time.

He'd dreamed of seeing The Surface before. Herring, he'd actually tried. And once was all it took. A brief sequence of minutes that felt as if they were hours, fluttering toward the crystal glittering skin of the ocean above him, only to doubt his choices and duck back down. But the edges of his mind persisted, Luca the Curious Fish, the one to get caught.

And his mind continued to nag and nudge him toward the parts of the farm that were cooler, left a bite on his scales as he hurried to find that same spot as yesterday. His surroundings flooded again as he was flanked by the jutting sections of the island below the water and into a cave opening leading to the same pool as before.

Luca's eyes fluttered shut past this point. Though it was childish, he feared by whim that a chunk of ominous island rock were to come undone and shatter on top of him, leaving him squished flat in the sand like some scaly water anole scattering for purchase. Luca let the thought, much like his other more intrusive ones leave his head as the temperature lifted around him. His face welcomed the sunlight drifting from the pool above along his fins and closed eyelids.

In a recess of the rock Luca had hidden the purple wooden stick (with the feather-soft bristles that, once Alberto had left, Luca ran along his cheeks until his scales were an embarrassing blue) that Alberto had so kindly gifted him, wedged between the sharp spaces so it didn't float away. He smiled at it sitting there, patiently waiting like he'd been, for a slice of attention.

"Hello again," Luca murmured in greeting to the paintbrush, tracing one finger along the smooth edge of painted wood.

The beams of light flickered along his teal scales, making the darkness of the pool shine pleasantly. But a flash of color even brighter than the sun passed across Luca's dorsal fin so harshly that he yelped aloud in the water and shrunk back from the odd thing. Was it lightning? Another thing Signora Paguro had cautioned him over, something painted quite scary from her perspective in his mind.

But the sun was there, so surely it wasn't lightning.

But even still the flashes appeared once, and then again, with a subdued pop from being underwater.

Wiping the back of his neck, as if the action were to rid him of the itchy feeling the blinding flashes sent along his scales, Luca looked up.

There was Alberto, his silhouette distorted along the water, gripping something bulky in his arms that appeared to be the object of Luca's discomfort.

/ / /

"W-Woah! Hey! What are you doing?"

Alberto leapt back from the mouth of the pool but the boy had swiped for Massimo's polaroid camera. He clawed for it in Alberto's quavering hands, while Alberto was still stunned by the fact that the creature had actually jumped up from the water and attacked him.

Well, he attacked the camera.

He tried to attack the camera.

"What is that thing?" The boy growled, his brows pulled low and angry while it seemed like above water the color of his eyes dimmed to a dark yellow. But still as striking. He had managed to knock Alberto down to the rocky ground where he felt the film in his back pocket crush under the combined weight. Oh hell. That was his last cartridge.

"It's--It's my father's camera! So you can't have it!" Alberto choked out.

"Why does it hurt like the sun?" The boy questioned, his grabbing motion and bared teeth bringing to mind a raccoon. Alberto tried to peel the creature's body from him but it was no use, he had Alberto's legs pinned with his tail.

"What are you talking about?" Alberto shimmed under the boy's weight, taking in a generous amount of air so he didn't gape at his assortment of teal and blue scales inches from his heaving chest, dripping salt water and something slimy. "I was just taking pictures for reference."

"Pictures?" The boy cocked his head, losing some of his fire. Alberto offered a shaky smile, using one hand to press into the ground to wiggle free. The creature got the hint and his vertical pupils widened in shock and wonder. He rolled off Alberto's lap, deflating. "Oh! Sharks, I'm really sorry. I don't know what got into me...I just hate that thing."

"The camera?" Alberto wiped his hand on his shorts, now soaked in water, and scooted a little ways from the boy. He waved the camera around in the air for effect, perhaps a bit carelessly, and the other boy flinched. "This takes pictures of things. It's cool!"

"Well, why were you taking picture things of me?" He said slowly, tasting the new words.

Under the sun Alberto was distracted by the creature's scales, so opalescent on the surface with that deep undertone of his true teal color. His dorsal fin, with no buoyant water to trail along, was flopped to one side casually. Alberto avoided looking at his tail, because this thing had a tail like an animal but could converse as lightly as any kid playing soccer by the fountain.

In short, he was beautiful. But also was a sort-of-fish and Alberto worried he was going to turn into someone's next fillet for the dinner table if he cooked out in the summer heat for much longer.

"Uh, aren't you going to dry up or something up here, sea monster?" Alberto pointed to the droplets of water quickly drying up on his scales.

The boy blushed, but from the sun's rays it wasn't as brilliant as it was the day before in the water. "It's Luca. And I think I'll be fine." He tapped the space below the fins on his cheeks, to some hidden part of his scales that Alberto was too shy to inquire about.

"What's Luca?"

The boy wrinkled his snout. "I'm Luca. That's my name, you catfish. Luca Paguro."

Alberto chuckled and let the polaroid camera rest beside him on a soft tuft of grass. "Catfish? Ouch. You know, I think I know someone who actually looks like a catfish."

Luca grinned his pointy teeth at him. "A real catfish? Can I see him?"

"Oh..." Alberto pulled his knees closer to his damp tank top and frowned at the puddle of water beside him. "I don't know about that..."

"Well, why not?" Luca questioned. He pointed to Alberto. "The Surface isn't so bad. I met you! And...And-" He tried to form the right words, looking so cute with his yellow eyes scrunched close. "And what are those things?"

Luca had abandoned his previous statement and crawled over to Alberto's travel hutch of paints, now propped open for him to admire. Alberto watched in silence as Luca tentatively stuck his webbed hand into the box, staring with raw curiosity at the shiny metal tubes of acrylic and the ceramic saucer serving as his palette.

He picked up Alberto's newest tube of red, examining the plastic top, unbroken.

"That's my paint box. I was thinking of doing a portrait--"

Luca turned the tube of paint so it was horizontal in his claws and took a bite from the top.

"...Of you," Alberto finished, shoulders slack. Luca's eyes flung back open when the pressure sent a burst of red acrylic across his fingers and into his mouth. He dropped the tube with a cry, teeth now stained an alarming red.

"You're not supposed to eat it," Alberto commented. He picked up the ruined tube with Luca's teeth marks still in it and set it in a corner of the box. "Here."

He handed over a towel he'd brought to clean his brushes so Luca could clean his face. Luca blinked wildly at the towel in Alberto's hands, not knowing what to do with it, so Alberto took the liberty to dip the cloth into the pool and wipe the red paint off his scales.

"That feels kind of weird," Luca whispered, eyes flickering up to the muscles lightly moving in Alberto's arm as he worked. His skin turned blue again, the odd freckles spanning along his bright cheeks flushing.

"Well next time don't take a bite out of my paints. Besides, it's for painting, obviously. Not food."

Luca sat on the back of his legs and quietly watched Alberto roll the cloth up and set it in the grass. "Can I paint? It looks like fun."

Alberto's eyes widened and bit his lip to hide his excitement. He fished inside his bag for a piece of paper for Luca then a small flat canvas for himself.

"Sure, I guess," He brushed it off. "Just don't get upset if it doesn't look like my paintings. I'm pretty good."

Luca snorted but eagerly snatched the paper from Alberto. He set it on a drier edge of the pool and slid back into the water. Spinning back around, he flashed Alberto a grin and held up the paintbrush he'd taken the day before, the wood soaked and paint chipping in places from water damage.

"I don't think you can paint with that, buddy," Alberto tsked. "The wood's probably rotted."

Luca's face fell and he jammed the paintbrush back into the crevice from before and scanned Alberto's palette he'd been depositing small portions of paint onto, grumbling.

Alberto started to paint and Luca just sat there watching, confused. Luca hid his face below the edge of the rock and used his index finger to dip into the well of green paint, then placed it on the paper. He let out a tiny noise at the discovery, now smearing globby splotches of forest green all along the page.

"Look Alberto!" Luca tugged on Alberto's toe to get his attention. He looked up from his canvas at Luca's paper. It wasn't much, but the look of pure glee on Luca's features was enough for Alberto to reach out and gently brush the fins on his head, like Luca had done with his hand, and smile.

"Nice," Alberto said softly. Luca blinked at his hand touching him, retreating a little into the water in surprise, but he soon floated back up and was adding blues to his messy painting. Luca couldn't be much younger than Alberto himself, only sixteen, and there still hung a childish innocence to him that was because he was so sheltered.

He knew he could never take Luca back to Portorosso. It was a fishing town.

Full of harpoons, nasty blades, monster-fearing Portorosso.

#luca #luca movie #luca fanfiction #luberto #luberto fanfiction #luca 2021 #luca paguro #luca x alberto #luca and alberto #alberto scorfano #giulia marcovaldo #gay fish boys #disney luca

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netflixbingger · 4 years ago

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I’ll Find You- Part 3

Chapter 3: Burned Memories- Prince Zuko x Reader

Masterlist: Pinned to profile :)

Summary: Y/N struggles to accept Zuko’s fate of Agni Kai.

Word Count: 1678 (Short, I know)

Warning: Agni Kai.

A dulled silence filled the gloomy halls as dark curtains covered the windows closing off any natural light from entering. You felt as if you were walking in slow motion towards the door; eyes heavy from tears, mind-numbed from thinking, and a burden of fear buried deep within your chest. As you reached your destination you saw Iroh slouched on a nearby bench; holding the same fearful expression as yourself. He looked up at hearing your footsteps and gave you a sad smile, nodding his head. He slowly sat up, exchanging a bow of respect before walking away; giving you and Zuko alone time. You were always grateful for Iroh, he was a beam of light in such a dark place.

It has been a little over a year since the New Year Ball and ever since then things amongst the royals have changed drastically. Azula was placed in a specialty fire bending school, Ozai banned any social ball exchanges, and the expansion of the Fire Nation grew. Though with all these new changes, there was one constant thing: Zuko.

After that night at the ball, you and Zuko made a promise for things not to change between the two of you. Even though his schedule was full of private policy classes and firebending training, he made the effort to see you as often as possible. Sometimes this would be accomplished by helping him study for a history test or a simple walk around the gardens. He never failed to make you feel wanted, and he did a good job reminding you that you were still his best friend. But given with age, you couldn't help but think there could be more than friendship between the two of you. You felt as if you were laying on the edge of friends and on the path towards a romantic relationship. You were always yearning to touch him in some way, and you’d occasionally catch yourself staring at him the same way your mother looked at your father. But though there was so much pulling you towards the boy, you ever acted on your feelings; you couldn't. He was a prince, planned to marry some high-ranked-ass-hole general's daughter. And you, you were nobody. You didn't belong in the palace, your family had no high nobility and it was obvious that his father hated you. You knew the only reason he allowed you to continue on with Zuko was because of Azula. For some reason, she talked to Ozai about letting you continue your palace visits. She claimed it was to practice her firebending with you, but you knew somewhere buried deep within her heart; she cared for you and Zuko.

Closing your eyes you reach your hand out towards the door, hovering it above the wood before knocking. You heard a sigh from inside the room and then within a second, the door swung open to reveal Zuko’s serious face. You both stared at each other for a moment before he stood aside and allowed you into his room.

You hung your head down as you stepped beside him, taking your time to examine his chambers. It was strange being here, you only remember his room from when you were very young and hiding from your duo of mothers. It was improper to be here alone with him, but you didn't care. Walking towards his bed, you danced your fingers along the silk sheets, pretending to examine them as Zuko watched from the doorway. But as the silence continued to loom in the air, you gave in, “Zuko please, you don't have to do this.”

“I don't have much of a choice, I disrespected the General” he sighed, walking towards his window; unlike the rest of the palace, his curtains were pulled open allowing the sunlight to glow along his skin.

“We could run away together?” you asked half-jokingly, hesitantly stepping forward toward the boy, “We could visit the other nations! Create new lives for ourselves, new names too!”

He continued to stare straight through the window, ignoring your pleas. You let go of his silk sheets as you made your way towards the boy. Standing beside him, your eyes scanned his face for emotion, for a sign of hope. Placing your hands on his arm like a child pulling at their parent, you continued on with your story, “Hmm, how about Izumi and Lee!”, you jumped at the idea, gripping his upper arm with much force.

“Y/n” head high held as he slid your hands off his arm and gently placed them down at your sides, “I can't just run away. I’m the prince, I have an honor and duty I need to withstand”

His refusal to meet your eyes burned your heart, he squeezed your hands before walking past you towards the door. You didn't know what to do, how to get him to stay. He was 13 years old and he was about to fight against a trained general. Your mind was racing on the possible outcomes, and soon enough your legs gave out from under you and you collapsed on the nearby chair. He turned around at the sound of the chair legs scraping across the floor and stared at you.

“Zuko, please” you pleaded with tearful eyes. You picked at your nails within your lap trying to distract yourself from the reality that is about to come. You heard Zuko release a breathless laugh before he made his way towards you. Kneeling down he took your chin in his hand and tilted your head up. A sad expression unmasked before you as he wiped your tears away with a forced smile. He rested his hand on your cheek before moving it towards your lap and lacing your fingers together. You can tell he wanted to say something, wanted to tell you something. But as your fingers danced with one another, the silence continued.

“I promise Y/N, it's going to be fine” he gulped before standing back up, stopping midway to place a kiss upon your forehead. He let his lips linger on your soft skin, taking a sniff of your perfumed hair before he retreated into a full standing position. You could still feel the burn of where his lips once laid. “I got this, besides we all know I can take down the General in my sleep”

You felt silenced, but you nodded your head as you knew it was time for him to go. He gave you a toothless grin before approaching the door once again, and just as he was about to walk out, you called, “Zuko wait”

As he stared at you, you wanted to run to him. You wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. You never held this strong of feelings before. But your heart was pulling at you to do it, to take the risk. You stood up, taking a step forward. If you weren't watching closely you would have missed how he leaned your way, opening himself for what was about to happen. He looked away from your eyes towards your lips as if he was yearning for the same touch.

But you couldn't move, you were too afraid. Taking a step back you bowed towards him, “Good luck, I’ll be waiting” your voice cracked as he sadly nodded in your direction before walking down the hall. Within a split second, you already regretted fighting the urge.

The next few hours felt like a nightmare. It all happened so quickly; the flames, the screams, the smell of burning flesh. Something you will never be able to remove from your memory, something that will haunt you for years to come. As Firelord Ozai’s banishment fled through your ears, pain began to fill your entire body. You must have gone into shock because one moment you collapsed into your crying mother's form and the next you were screaming and thrashing at the guards as they escorted you out of the palace: an order from Zuko himself.

He didn't want to see you. He refused to see you. He was willing to leave without saying goodbye.

You never experienced so much pain as you did that day. You lost your best friend and you lost your childhood: the innocence you once held has now vanished. Visions of fire and pain constantly flooded your mind. It was only a matter of a few weeks before your family was stripped of any nobility and your father was deployed to the Fire Nation front lines.

After that, everything began to shatter at once, and you were beginning to lose your mind. You felt as though you had been banished beside Zuko, and that Ozai was attacking you personally. It was when your father was announced a traitor for disobeying General commands that your mother decided you had no place in the city anymore. You were expelled from the Fire Nation Academy for Girls, your mother was banned from local shops and gatherings, and your father was sent to Boiling Rock.

As Ozai’s war spread further into the world, your mother wanted nothing to do with a nation that caused nothing but pain. You and her shed your red and black clothes, promising never to wear the color of fire again. You removed yourself from the studies of firebending and settled into an Earth Nation village called Gaoling. Here you led a normal life; worked in a soup shop with your mother, and learned the true history of the Fire Nation.

3 years passed since you last saw the banished prince, but the nightmares of his screams still haunted you. You loathed Firelord Ozai, and you made it your life mission to avenge his sins. So when you had run into the Avatar, you promised to help him in any way that you could. You explained how you knew the royals inside and out, you knew the city like the back of your hand, and you knew how to take Ozai down.

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Found this sitting in my drafts for a verrrry long time, but tell me what you think! And if you would like to be added/removed from tag list just let me know :)

Tag list: @sadgirlnumber92899 @fandom-addict-aesthetics @roastbeats @lammello @unicornwithachainsaw83

#prince zuko #prince zuko imagine #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #avatar zuko #prince zuko x reader #avatar last airbender #avatar #avatar fanfiction #zuko fanfic

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sinfulsigh · 4 years ago

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𝙰𝚂𝙿𝙷𝚈𝚇𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙽 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝚂𝚄𝙱𝙻𝙸𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝙿𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙻𝚂

summery : he, who bloomed and ravished, sought euphoria in your high.

pairings : hanamaki takahiro x fem! reader

caution warnings : smut, nsfw, asphyxiation, marijuana

word count : 4.3k

He hated how your name felt against his tongue during an achroous downpour on a friable Monday afternoon; complaining how it’s harsh and jagged, as if it could shatter ivory molars. Your name sounded of foreign revolutions and fescennine opulence, a name he claims that static nymphs would own as they choke on nude snapdragons. So, he prefers to call you Hanaame, for the rain storm you lingered under and how he desperately wanted to pinch himself onto you for an eternity.

Delirious and illecebrous was his four o’ clock stare as he gazed at how your hair rests in heavy tussles against the rainfall, admiring how your uniform clung to to your statuesque body (exposing every soft curve and barbed edge of your anatomy); silently worshiping a sfumato muse with amaranthine forelsket that taunts him. Amid captivating midsummer showers, you were the luminary of his hazed, vain possessed reality that’s soaked in the trichromatic hues of explicit soaking. The tip of his fingers trembled lightly as they ghost over your skin, pulling away the hair that cascaded down your face—water droplets slowly descending from the ends of your hair and the curve of your face; baptising you in solstice sorrows.

“You look pretty this way,” Hanamaki informed with a honeyed, shy voice. His skin flushing the vast shades of peaches as it paints his flesh in warm tones.

You cusp your palm against his cheek, cherishing the warmth that radiates from his ambiance that felt strangely of smoke. You smiled at him, the gloss of your lips seeping into the cracks of your chapped lips as he melts in the softness of your voice, “You look beautiful in the tides of this storm.”

All he could do was stare at you with squinted eyes that are glazed in an amaranth hue. Hanamaki smirks as he allows your hand to linger for a second longer before moving his body onwards into the insouciant prisms of the storm. The light drum of thunder quaked your bones, setting the rhythm for your heart as you walked between the roars and screams of a malicious tempest.

Hanamaki’s home lingered somewhere between a busy street that is known for its dense population of hallowed bodies and rural authority of decayed forests. The lights in his home glowed with warm lights with silhouettes of his youngest sister dancing hazardously as the hem of her dress fluttered around her. You can see his mother lingering in the kitchen as the small, crystal windows placed emphasis on her beauty—her strawberry blonde hair tied into a tight bun as her nepenthe eyes rested downcast at the counter while she cut away at freshly plucked produce.

Hanamaki leads you inside his home, ignoring the shrieking greetings of his sister and his mother’s demanding call of pleads as he pushes you up the koidan-dansu staircase. His home was small with narrow hallways and thin walls, wooden floors that creaked under your weight and memories plastered in oxidized silver frames on every mahogany surface. Hanamaki’s room was in the far back of the hallway where shadows brood, and he’s profusely apologizing that the light fixture above is broken and has been for many years now. His nimble fingers sliding the door to his bedroom open as a darkened room sat in cimmerian stillness.

The smell of musk and earth envelopes you into a sense of tranquility as you push farther into his room, taking in the sight of an unmade futon laying messy on beige tatami mats and a polluted desk messied with papers and unread books. Dust collected on the surface of his bookshelf, dresser and far corners of his rooms as lone spiders spun silk plexure on his windowsill. Hidden in too obvious of spaces were selcouth paraphernalia made of glass, their crystal bodies odd yet arcane with yellow inert water and resin clinging to the neck of his bongs.

You turned to Maki, who’s reaching into his closet to grab a spare hanger, as you melt away the tears of Mother Nature’s tantrum onto the floor. You're drenched and glistening after being consumed by the rain and Hanamaki listens to the subtle droplets fall from your hair onto his floor. Like the rest of his catastrophic room, he doesn’t care that you're making a mess. If he wasn’t so occupied trying to make things comfortable for you, he would gladly get on his knees and lick every stray droplet that falls around you (in his foam gagged consciousness, anything that spills from you should never go to waste). But he keeps his composure with a deep inhale from his nose as he hands you a wire hanger.

“Here, put your clothes on that and I’ll place them in the bathroom to dry off.” Hanamaki offered before the sudden realization laved over him. His skin burning into molten hues of rose golden as he quickly added onto his statement with furrowed brows, “And while you do that, I will get you some spare clothes to wear.”

“Thanks.” You smiled, waiting for him to turn around before you discarded your clothes one by one.

You stripped away the light blue button down that caged your torso, followed by the unravel of the red ribbon secured tightly around your neck. Bare flesh being kissed by the dampened freeze of his aircon spitting clear, turbulent winds. You shutter, the vertebrae of your pretty spine vibrate in a shockwave of agglomerative climax. Gentle fingers unfastened the zipper on the side of your plaid skirt and quickly did it fall down your legs with a deadened thrash. You stepped out of your skirt and gently tucked away your clothes in an orderly fashion on the hanger, standing half naked in the midst of his room with artificial lights spotlighting the delicance and elegance of your flesh.

Hanamaki blushed, attempting to hide the tinge of apricot blush that painted his face in soft strokes, his hands trembling as he attempted to offer you a gray shirt. You thanked him as you handed off your uniform into his empty hands, watching him quickly dart out of the room as you played with the hem of his shirt. Once the door slid shut, you placed his t-shirt over your head and watched it cascade down your body as it engulfed your stature completely. A normal shirt for him was an oversized dress in contrast to your feminine build, something he admired once he returned into the sanctity of his room.

“You look pretty like this.” He praised, his smile carving into the lunar flesh of his face.

“I can say the same for you,” you pointed, acknowledging how he slipped out of his uniform to wear a plain, light blue t-shirt and a pair of sweats. “Thanks for the T-shirt.”

“I couldn’t just leave you in that wet uniform,” he exclaimed as he walked to the far side of the room. His hands brushed against the light fixture of his LED lights that quickly blazed in a violescent pigment; his hands rapidly tampering with a different, much smaller lamp that illuminated the many shades of a citrus sunset. He walked back to the other end of his room again to turn off the main light fixture, “It should be dry once you leave tonight.”

“Hopefully this storm lightens up.” You peered out the window as maudit winds routed between the spaces of buildings and trees.

“Even if it doesn’t, I don’t mind giving you my clothes so you can stay warm.”

“Such a typical guy thing to say,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m only human and you look too pretty in my clothes,” Hanamaki reminded, looping his arms around your waist as his lips pressed a chaste kiss on the top of your head. “Thanks for skipping homework to have a smoke session with me.”

“Thank you for providing the flower.” You smiled against the skin of his collarbone, taking in his scent of musk, jasmine and coconut shampoo with earthy tones of cedar wood and lavender.

Hanamaki pushes you into the futon before giving you one last squeeze, watching you fall like dazed cinematic sequences of lovers falling in lust. The back of your head hitting the pillow too hard that it ached in a dull pulse but you didn’t mind. Your dilated eyes watch him stalk towards the long bookshelf from between your legs that gaped slightly opened. You watched him with sublime lacing your beings as his oversized hands grasped at his pink grinder with a uv dripped face, a small gray bag that tore at the seams with frayed threads while his other hand carefully held a beaker bong that's dusted in a light pink color. You felt the sudden relief of knowing that the bong you’ll be sharing is clean with freshly added water.

You watched him open his grinder, the pungent smell of terra and dirt invading your aura as he sprinkled bud into the glass bowl. You lean into him, watching Hanamaki set up everything on his own as he demands you to relax and seep closer to him with a soft smile. His warmth like molten suns as it lulls you into halcyon elation, wrinkling the fabric of his shirt as you curl your fingers across his thin torso. Lips latching onto his neck, sucking on the subtle skin that makes Hanamaki feel euphoria against the plush of your pouty lips and the slime of your saliva staining his skin. A deep moan escaped the charred airwaves of his throat, sounding sweetly of corybantic arousal.

“Hey, at least let me finish this,” he sighs, hands roaming into his bag to find the yellow lighter he believed to be was lucky. He placed the tips of his fingers against your chin, turning your head to face him with a smirk planting his face as the pad of his thumb brushed against your bottom lip that was swollen with lust and anticipation. “Here, place your mouth on the rim and inhale.”

You obeyed, leaning your head down to attach your lips against the glass and began to slowly breathe. Hanamaki held the lighter to the bowl as to set the bud ablaze; he encouraged you to suck harder with a gentle rub of his calloused hands as it traces the curvature of your spine while the smoke began to accumulate in the glass. He released his hold on his favorite lighter as he pinches the bowl of the bong tightly between long fingers, Hanamaki smiled as he gazed at you, “Okay, darling, start sucking.”

Hanamaki pulls out the bowl, making you quickly suck in the clouds that swirled in the glass bong. The water in the bong began to bubble with the force of your soft inhales, trying to match the rhythm of heavy downpours that shatter his windows. The smoke traveled down your throat, scorching into your esophagus as it settles in your lungs—the smoke burning your respiratory system as if you consumed a thousand molten, honeyed suns whole. Your lungs felt like they dropped into your core as the pain tangled your nerves and spread across your back, making you want to release the smoke you were currently choking on. You looked at Hanamaki with blurred vision as tears swelled into your eyes, the smoke you poured out of your mouth billowed around you till it dissipated into the atmosphere.

“Ah! You drooled!” Hanamaki laughed, collecting the silver spit that glossed your lips and dribbled down your chin.

“God, that hurt!” You complained in between deep breaths.

“The first hit of the day is always the hardest.” Hanamaki informed before taking the leftovers your small lungs couldn’t carry. He quickly took in the smoke and held it in his lungs like a blanket before he began to slowly choke on colorless clouds. Smoke poured out of his lips as if it was second nature as they thickened around him. Between gentle coughs, he began to speak.

“Hanamaki, can I ask you a question?” You jeered. All too soon between after school smoke sessions and tender kisses on the rooftop of your school, you began to notice how Hanamaki feigned vanity (pretending to be possessed with solar incendiary with every shallow breath and dagger pierced eyes). He wasn’t like he claimed to be, if anything, Hanamaki Takahiro was a man that had interest in everything and a deep desire to be loved. Blood deep, he was still a prelude mortal that carries inordinate vitality. But he gravitated somewhere on a spectrum of flowers blooming in a subtle reality and an acid trip of lilac skies, where pain is easily mistaken for pleasure. You were sure you knew the answer but the words still slipped past your saliva glossed lips “Are you a virgin?”

Hanamaki smiled as urged you to place your mouth against the rim of his bong, lighting the bowl as the green residing within it became blackened ash. “No, I’m not.” He said simply, no emotions carried as he pulled the bowl away, “suck hard, darling.”

You held the smoke into your lungs as your chest expanded, your eyes glazing over to Hanamaki who could only smile at you. Slowly, you felt skin heat under his stare and all at once, the shame relaxed your spine as your lungs pleaded for oxygen—like a slave to your body, you obeyed as the smoke pooled out of your mouth slowly to create thick mist between you. Quickly, you let out a sharp cough that scraped away at the flesh from behind your throat. Hanamaki mutters how cute you were before he played with his glass to seek his high.

“I’m still a virgin.” You admitted.

The bubbles of his bong roared as he swallowed the thick cloud that billowed in his bong. He held the smoke inside his lungs for a minute as his lips carved into a smile, his head nodding in understanding, as if he knew. You were a good girl and he just ended up becoming the floral demon that took possession of your nectar spine, quickly corroding the prayers etched into your grapefruit brain. He made assumptions of you, just as you did of him, but he could never call you anything with malicious intent. Like he said the first time you smoked with him beneath the rose hedges of his home as bumblebees swayed around you, ‘you’re the world to me’. He blew out his smoke, the front of his teeth brushing together before returning your stare, “I know, baby.”

Lean bodies protrude closer as Hanamaki slid closer to your aura, his slender fingers gently scraped at the curve of your face. Your skin was coaxed in slime and salt, oddly did it remind Hanamaki of the rapid rivers from behind his house and how the mist of fresh water soaked his skin. His thumb brushes against the edge of your cheek bone before his hand slowly glides downwards to rest on the base of your neck; his lips finding the corner of your parted mouth as he kissed you gently—the taste of the cannabis stained onto his skin invading your sense of taste that burst of charred earth lave your tongue.

Hanamaki grasped your wrist, willing to pull you deeper into his core of guilty pleasures. And just how willing he was to expose the rot and hallucinations that polluted his mangled body, you willingly stepped into his delusions of lilac skies where flowers bloomed vibrantly and violently—saturated in the acid that distorts your angelic image into a nymph that births peonies. He leaned forward, hovering his chapped lips above yours as waited for your signal, hoping it was fine to sink into your solar prisms and taste the honey from your lips. Eyes half lidded, he sweetly framed your mouth to his with open mouth kisses. His touches feel comforting as his weight is forged onto you and he pulls you down.

Nimble fingers card through his hair, the tip of your fingernails scratching against his scalp but he didn’t mind. It only encouraged him more with fever blossoming beneath his pale skin, your touch was something he craved and Hanamaki desired to capture it more with greed in hands.

Hanamaki bit the bottom of your lip before pulling away, gasping for air as you were far more dangerous than any smoke he could devour. “Hanaame,” he gasped, as if it was your actual name. The tips of his fingers inched higher above the hem of his t-shirt draped on your body as they roamed against your skin. You followed his movements, slowly pulling at the cloth that entraps his body till it raised just above his navel. Your fingertips brushed every hard edge and muscle of his torso before he replaced your hands with his, quickly discarding his shirt that suddenly felt too heavy to bear.

With furrowed brows, he gently placed his hands on your stomach from where your skin exposed, looking at you with half lidded eyes as you gave him the okay to touch your flesh. He slowly pulled at the hem of his shirt, raising it up to reveal your chest that was adorned in a bra that matched your black panties. Raindrops fell onto your skin from the open cracks of his window, painting you in cold, summer rainstorms as Hanamaki discarded the shirt; your body leaning forward from the assistance of your numbing elbows digging into the fabric of his futon. You harshly pressed your mouth against him again, missing the mold of his lips that feel like strelitzias swarming around you. The lingering taste of ash and earth of his lips felt hot in comparison to the rain that drizzled over you.

Water droplets began to pile against you, pooling into the spaces of your collarbones and neck muscles that you shivered. Hanamaki wanted to cure you of the pale freeze that glimmered onto your skin, jealous of how the rain loved you with it’s elixir offerings, so much so that attached his open mouth against your neck and dragged his tongue down. He cleaned the salt and purity from your skin, the sweat and nectar that doused you as the feel of your flesh mimicked the heat from oblivious, vermilion hell fires. He sipped on the rain fall that ruined your gentle image, knowing in the back of his mind he’ll become sick with infections that will soon saturate his organs with toxicity. However, he didn’t mind and it proved as his tongue still swayed against your skin.

Hands trembled as they pulled at the hem of your black panties, pulling them down slowly as you adjusted to the sudden chill of being bare and exposed. Hanamaki searched for your evening stare through half lidded eyes, assuring that he wasn’t pushing boundaries. Shaken fingers trembled as they gently pressed against the slit of your opening before they ran upwards to press lightly on your clit. You stirred, letting out a soft hiss as your body trembled from his touch, and for a moment he was scared that he harmed you but the apprehension that laced his translucent flesh washed away when he noticed your legs opening just slightly. He pressed agonizing small circles around you, adoring the sweet mewls that leave your lips with a drunken smile—saturated in euphoria at the beauty sprawled out in front of him as his high quickly takes over.

His movements felt slow as he carefully pushed away the hairs that curtained your face. The pad of his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before grazing it over your eyelid, smearing the eyeshadow and liquid eyeliner that painted you in renaissance beauty. “Open your eyes,” Hanamaki demanded, leaning his body closer to yours as you felt his hardened cock rest painfully on your thigh.

You obeyed, your vision going hazy like a noise filter. For a second you couldn’t comprehend as to why your body reacted in such a way but you couldn’t escape this high that made you feel like mauve flowers blooming underneath the heat of a uv lamp. You felt dizzy, as if you orbited around Saturn’s orange halo rings yet you knew perfectly well that you laid still and composed under Hanamaki. You reached out your hand to cusp his face, your reaction time slow as your limbs felt too heavy.

“Your eyes,” he complimented, “Are a beautiful shade of red.”

“I feel like the color purple, rare and untouchable.” You murmured, “But I know I’m in nude tones of skin shows and it’s just my aura slowly reaching enlightenment under the haze of your influence.”

He smiles at you, returning his lips to your skin as his fingers trailed down to feel the nectar collecting at your opening. His fingertips coated in slime as he pushed one digit in, curving his digit against your walls to witness the reaction of ecstasy that laced your bones. He moved his fingers in rhythmic tone, sliding in and out before needing to replace his slender fingers with his raged member that demanded to be noticed.

He grasped the base of his cock, sliding it between you in slow pushes to give you time to adjust to his length. He shutters at your unintentional squeeze as you milk him, Hanamaki never realizing how loud his gasps and grunts are as the pounding in his heart (from embarrassment, the pleasure and the high) became too coherent in his racing mind. The grip around your hips could break, allowing the black ichor spill like ink, blotching your flesh in a bouquet of flowers. Once he’s fully in, he recomposes, staring at you with the casual sparkle in his eyes as his smile resurfaces. Hanamaki traces the skin from just below your eyes, demanding you look at him with those red eyes that captivate him completely like salacious artwork hanging proudly in elegant museums.

“I can take you even higher,” he admits, fingertip brushes tracing softly against your neck, “I can take you away from this reality.”

You don’t say anything, still attempting to understand his words as they pour slowly out his lips. The reaction of his fingers on your skin was delayed, and it wasn’t until he pulled away did you notice his lingering advances. Once you could comprehend his words, you nodded your head, shaking it so quickly that it pulled at your center of gravity. “Okay,” you meekly whispered, giving him consent before you completely forget what he offered, “Just don’t kill me.”

Hanamaki pressed his lips onto yours sweetly before pulling away, his words tracing your lips in the same hush toned you spoke, “I could never.”

Because, you were his world.

He quickens his thrust, his hips carving into yours as if you’re a goddess demanding to be worshipped. You could feel the pleasure resonating from your love and spreads—every little edge and surface of your skin feeling sensitive to the touch of his lust. The slam of his hips felt like thunder as it echoed and reverberated off the thin walls of his room, and in the back of your mind before you forget about it mid sentence was, ‘I’m sure his mother can hear us.’ But Hanamaki didn’t mind, he wasn’t ashamed to let his mother know that he was deep within the bathic caverns of the girl he worshipped.

He knew you would most likely come before him, so quickly he fulfilled his promise and offered his hands to you. The palm of his hands pressing tight against the side of your neck as the curve of his thumbs sat against the base of your neck. Once he paved inside, he began to squeeze, restricting your breathing as his hips hit hard against your liquid love. He ignored the rainfall that slaps against his limbs, the cold thrush of droplets adoring his skin like impaled jewels. Disregarding the water droplets that splashed against his narrow shoulder blades and traveled downwards across his spine. And under him, you were soft with widened eyes as you try to comprehend his soothing words. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ he assured and you believed it, ‘cause deep within your core, he’s nurturing the lotuses that wilted as the stomach acid dissipated from your organs. Hanamaki was a literal demon, adored in flowers as he puked up petals beneath your naked frame—he could make you witness the destruction of paracosms and rebuild the dimensions that you nuked with heartache with the growth of florals and cannabis oils.

Your vision faded into this reality to a white cascade that appeared like static in your dilated pupils. Against his palms, he could feel the gentle pulse that fastens with every pace of his hips. Once you could witness the rebirth of this reality, your vision still clouded in noise and static, everything felt slow. His pace, his touch, your buildup. You never notice how the rain pours onto your bare flesh, or how Hanamaki’s heated exhales mist your skin. Slowly, did you feel euphoria tightened around your love as it escalated heavily before the vertigo grew overwhelming.

“H—Hana...maki!” You moaned, “I think I’m going to—!”

“It’s fine, darling.” He whispered, “Come, it’s okay.”

With or without his permission, your climax heightened as your hips raised against his careless rhythm. His cock brushed against your cervix as his hands began to squeeze tighter around your neck. As you slipped out of this reality, you released the pressure that pooled inside, your body seizing with the heavy weight of your climax and milked his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He moans.

His hips continued to thrust as he formed his lips onto yours, swallowing your moans and saliva as he too was close to reaching his high. Beneath him, you felt the wave of euphoria graze your daybreak ambiance, shedding away the title of mortal to enter a slow metamorphosis of godly.

#after;⛓;dark #hanamaki takahiro #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki smut #cw; asphyxiation #cw;weed #cw; marijuana #cw; smut #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #hq x you #hq scenarios #hq makki #makki x reader #makki scenarios

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goddessofchaosss · 1 month ago

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I want this one👆🏻 for Christmas please

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #whytheactualfuxkisntshereal #cervix tickler #the rizzler #my bbydaddy #lesbianism #gimmi one chance #I’ll make her smell colors after the earth shattering head I’ll give her #look at me like that PLEASE

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inu-jiru · 4 years ago

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The Tiger And The Zebra

Chapter Three - Jasper’s First Sauna

“So...what am I supposed to do?”

“Just a moment.”

I rested my hand on a pedestal that sat in the center of the Extraction Chamber. A holographic screen popped up in front of me, displaying a number of options. I set the steam temperature to the maximum setting. I personally preferred something gentler on my “skin” but I believed that Jasper had a few thousand years worth of stress that she needed to get rid of. There was the option to apply a scent to the steam as a sort of aromatherapy. That made me curious.

“Is there any particular scent you’re fond of?” I asked over my shoulder.

“Not really.”

“Well…” I sighed. “Is there anything you wouldn’t mind smelling for the next hour?”

“Is this really important?” Jasper asked, annoyed. I turned to her, a hand on my hip. She was sitting on the bench behind me, her arms crossed.

“I just want to make things comfortable for you, Ms. Ultimate Quartz,” I explained, the faintest hint of impatience edging its way into my voice. “Look. I can pick for you, if that makes you happy.”

“You know what would make me happy?” Jasper began with a smirk.

“Don’t make me move it up to three hours,” I warned, turning back to the screen so that she wouldn’t see the grin that was threatening to form on my face. Stars above...Jasper really loved to push her luck with me, didn’t she? I had to admit, this constant back and forth of irritation and amusement was something I’d never had with a Quartz soldier. Not even my most rambunctious Amethyst had the audacity to be so vocal with me. It was different, and yet...I was enjoying it.

I decided to go with the scent of Earth pine. It, and other organic plant matter, had been taken from Earth prior to the Rebellion. It was something Homeworld did for all colonies; taking things with fine fragrances and using them for Gem relaxation. It was, perhaps, the only thing of worth that organic life had ever provided for us. With that, I confirmed the setting I’d chosen and turned to join Jasper on the bench. The vents activated at the same time, and with a hiss, the hot, scented steam began filling the room.

“Ahh,” I sighed. I could already smell the pine. I glanced at Jasper. “Things should heat up momentarily. Perhaps you’d like to change into something more comfortable?”

“...Like what?” said Jasper, cocking a brow.

“Well, usually, Gems like to change their physical modifiers into something like a bathing suit. Exposes more “skin”, so to speak. Makes the Extraction that much better, in my opinion.”

“Seems like a bit much…” The Quartz paused, looking down at the chest part of her uniform. Already, beads of liquid were beginning to form. “It’s doing it over my uniform, anyway.”

“True…” I admitted. “I think it’s more for the aesthetics. If you look like you're relaxed, then you’ll feel like you're relaxed.”

“I’ll pass,” Jasper said. Damn it.

“That’s fine,” I responded, hiding my disappointment. “I, on the other hand…” My physical modifiers began to glow as they shifted. My robe and sandals were replaced with a bathing suit, a solid dark-grey in color. Content, I leaned back against the wall, crossed my legs and closed my eyes. Droplets trickled down my exposed arms and legs. It felt nice, as if someone were caressing me with their fingers.

“You never answered my question,” I heard Jasper say. “What do I do?”

“Relax,” I said plainly.

“How? You’re just...sitting there.”

“Exactly. You have to sit still, don’t think about anything stressful, and let the extraction happen.”

“...That’s it?” I opened an eye, seeing Jasper staring at me in disbelief. “Come on; there has to be more to it. It can’t just be an hour of sitting here.”

“Well,” I began. “We could always pass the time by talking.” She groaned again.

“About what?” Jasper grunted. I shrugged.

“Anything, really. What’s on your mind, Jasper?” I paused. “And if you say “training”, I swear to White Diamond—“ Jasper let out a breathy chuckle.

“Earth’s on my mind,” the Quartz said. “And not just because of the mission. I keep remembering the War.”

“Unavoidable, I suppose,” I replied. I paused, gazing up towards the ceiling as glimpses of the war flashed in my mind. Funny how such old memories could still be so fresh. Looking back at Jasper, I continued wistfully. “It’s funny, really. The War was horrible for Homeworld and yet, there were some moments I remember quite fondly. Of course, those tales probably pale in comparison to what I’ve heard about you, the “Kindergarten Quartz That Could”.”

Another smirk graced Jasper’s features, as expected. Then again, I’d probably be the same if I’d emerged as perfectly as she did.

“Tell me,” I started, my own coy grin beginning to form. “Did you really shatter eighty traitors the day you emerged, or is that number...exaggerated?”

It took everything in me not to laugh at the look of offense on Jasper’s face. I could already hear her dry, arrogant retort in my head. Such a sensitive ego; I loved it.

““Exaggerated”,” she repeated slowly. “Good one. Sounds like something a Spinel would say.”

“A Spin—“ I couldn’t hold it back. I began laughing harder than I probably should have, bringing up a hand in front of my mouth. Her eyes burned into me.

“What’s so funny?” Jasper growled. It took me a moment to compose myself. I think I’d even started tearing up. Clearing my throat, I turned to the Quartz again.

“YOU, Jasper,” I answered bluntly. “You amuse me. And I mean no disrespect when I say that. Nor did I mean any offense with my earlier statement. It was a joke, to put it simply.”

“Mmph…”

“Alright, alright.” I held up my hands in defeat. “I’m genuinely curious, though. What was it like for you, that first day?” Jasper leaned back, finally looking as if she were actually trying to relax. Her arms were still folded, but it was a start.

“Well, for starters,” said Jasper. “It was actually eighty-three Gems. I kept count.” Of course she did. “Would’ve gotten more if my Agate hadn’t gotten to me.”

“Your Agate?” I asked.

“Yeah, Yellow Agate. She was assigned to the Beta Kindergarten, but I wasn’t exactly in the mood to take orders. I was ready to start fighting.”

“And she put you in line, hmm?”

“That’s putting it lightly…” Jasper chuckled, but I didn’t hear any humor in it. “She’s nothing like you. You even look at her the wrong way and...yeah.”

“Hmph.” It was my turn to be unimpressed. A lot of Agates were like that. It was how Agates were supposed to be, apparently. I couldn’t agree with that. Patience was a better tool for Quartzes, not blind rage and aggression. If that made me “flawed” in some way, then so be it. We were all flawed, really. Only the Diamonds were truly perfect. Jasper’s voice caught my attention.

“Anyway, I got my chance to take out more crystal Gems,” she continued. My jaw tightened at that name, but unlike with the Lazuli, I chose to let it go. “Kinda lost track of how many after a few hundred years, but I’d like to think I made a dent in Rose’s army, heh.”

“Very impressive. And you never got to meet Rose Quartz in battle?”

“Believe me, if I had, you probably wouldn’t be on this mission.”

“I don’t know��” I began teasingly. “I’ve heard she’s quite strong.”

“Not stronger than me,” the warrior Gem insisted. “Trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I chuckled. By now, the steam had dampened Jasper’s hair, making it cling to her body. It was alright, though I definitely preferred the untamed, gravity-defying nature her hair had when it was dry. Nevertheless, I did want to run my fingers through it...maybe move that one noticeable strand out of her face. My fingertips drummed against my thigh as I held myself back.

There was a moment’s pause as we sat there, dripping wet and surrounded by the ever-thickening steam. In that time, my mind began wandering back to my days during the war, the battles I fought alongside my Quartzes, the interrogations of captured traitors…the losses we faced...I began to frown, looking down at my hands. So many shards I’d held in my hands. Rose Quartz’s policy was to only dissipate the form of an enemy Gem, however, I knew from experience that such a rule was only talk. My hands became fists, a sudden bolt of hatred shooting through me. Rose Quartz, of all Gems, was the last person who should have been advocating for peaceful methods.

“Zebra Agate.”

I blinked. Jasper was...calling me? This was the first time she’d used my name. Glancing at her, I saw her giving me a look of...concern…? Her brow was furrowed, so I thought she might’ve been angry. Yet her eyes were...surprisingly soft. They held no aggression in them. My cheeks burned with humiliation; quickly, I turned to look at a wall.

“My apologies,” was all I could think to say.

“...Lemme guess,” Jasper said. Even her voice sounded somewhat understanding. “Bad memories, huh?”

“...I’m afraid so,” I whispered. I felt my eyes sting with tears, and my embarrassment deepened. Despite my efforts, I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. I wiped at it quickly. Clearing my throat, I forced myself to speak in a clearer voice. “Let’s just say that I might have some difficulty holding back on Rose Quartz myself.”

“Maybe we don’t have to.”

“Jasper…” I dared to face the Quartz again. “I have my orders.”

“We could just say it was an accident,” Jasper suggested. She looked...hopeful. “Y’know...she was being difficult...it was either her or us, that kind of thing.”

“I doubt Her Clarity would fall for that,” I sighed.

“But wouldn’t it be worth it? Letting out all that anger and just…” Jasper slammed her palm with her fist. “No point in holding yourself back. It’d feel much better to give Rose what she deserves.”

The offer was so tempting, especially with how Jasper described it. Yet, my loyalty to my Diamond and my fear of what my failure could’ve brought me held a tight grip on my Gem. At the same time, I didn’t want to outright decline.

“I’ll think about it,” was my final answer.

“Fair enough,” sighed Jasper. I gave her a smile.

“Thank you,” I said gently. “You’re surprisingly thoughtful. I didn’t think you had that in you.”

“I wouldn’t call it that...” Jasper grimaced. I chuckled again, a gentle warmth buzzing through me. Poor dear. Did she think I was calling her soft or something?

“Well, whatever you call it…” I paused, allowing myself to reach up and brushing aside the irritating strand of hair. Jasper’s eyes widened, her cheeks darkening in color. “I appreciate it.”

“Yeah…” The Quartz cleared her throat, tearing her gaze from mine. Oh...I was going to miss her when this mission was over.

#steven universe fanfic #su jasper x oc #canon divergent au #steven universe gemsona #might edit this later since I’m on my phone and mobile tumblr won’t let you title shit ughhh #the thirst never ends

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therealchoreanese · 5 years ago

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Ch. 1 - As Luck Would Have It

A/N: fanfic in progress inspired by @kceedraws‘s prompt & art about this lovely crossover ship, gonna put it up on ao3 soon hopefully

The penthouse was absolutely gorgeous. Wide windows that faced San Fransokyo’s bustling streets on the north wall, a balcony with a table and two chairs overlooking the bay on the opposite side. The tub in the restroom had twenty options of different flower-infused waters and whether or not you wanted bubbles, and the kitchen came with a fridge that could list recipes based on your taste, personal health, and whatever was inside it. Not to mention the flat-screen in the living room, or the marbled coffee table and fancy-looking leather couch, and the bedroom’s silk canopy bed and massive walk-in closet and -

“I can’t possibly accept, sir!” Marinette protested. “This is all too much. I’d be fine at the institute’s dorms, they’re cozy and with enough space for my designing-”

Gabriel Agreste tsked and waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t make a fuss. You’re here on my scholarship, and this is simply a benefit of it. Besides, a dorm is not inconspicuous enough for Ladybug activities. Here, you’ll have all the privacy you’ll need.”

“He’s got a point, Marinette,” Tikki agreed. “On-campus would be the worst place to transform, there are so many things that could go wrong and - oh, there’s even a little bed for me!”

Marinette sighed. If Tikki thought it well, then she definitely wasn’t getting out of it.

“One more thing,” Gabriel Agreste said. “Follow me, ma chère.”

Marinette fell in love the moment they stepped inside - it was a fashion designer’s dream come true. It was the least fanciest room in the entire penthouse, with only five blank mannequins and a worktable and empty racks where fabric rolls were supposed to be. But Marinette could make the space hers, fill it with life and love and all her ideas. And for a moment, she couldn’t speak.

So she threw her arms around Gabriel Agreste and squeezed him tight.

Mr. Agreste blinked rapidly, and he awkwardly patted her shoulder, but he seemed to understand. “Well, then. I’ll leave you to get settled. Keep me updated, yes? If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”

After Mr. Agreste left, Marinette fluttered around the suite, doing her best to make it feel like home. She taped pictures of her friends and family next to her bed, unpacked her things - even with three whole boxes of clothes and accessories, the closet still wasn’t full - and spent a weirdly unnecessary amount of time exploring the restroom amenities. She emerged from the tub hours later, the grime of the airplane washed away by a lavender bubble bath.

“You smell lovely, Marinette,” Tikki complimented. “You know, it really is so kind of Mr. Agreste to do this for us.”

“I know!” Marinette’s voice was muffled by her rummaging through the closet. “Who would have thought that one year after defeating him we’d be here - in America, on a scholarship in his name, and him being a Ladybug supporter. My supporter. It feels almost like a dream.”

“A dream in which Ladybug leaves Paris.” Tikki sighed wistfully. “I wonder how Adrien will do without us?”

“That silly kitty will be fine. He and Master Fu have the other Miraculouses to help them out. Besides,” Marinette added, “’Ladybug’ is looking forward to meeting San Frasokyo’s superhero team on a night patrol. When do you think we’ll get to see them?”

Tikki fixed Marinette with a stern glare. “Not until you’re settled in. You need to adjust to the time zone, and get ready for school, and make some friends who have your back before anything else. I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt because you feel out of place.”

“Okay, okay.” Marinette wriggled on a jacket. “Done! Let’s go exploring then, Tikki, we can see what’s around. I want to find a good bakery as fast as possible.”

“Homesick already, Marinette?” Tikki teased.

Marinette glanced at the photos on the wall and smiled. “Something like that.”

A bell jingled as Marinette pushed the door open to the Lucky Cat Cafe. The large cat above the doorway had reminded her of home - her mother had a statue similar to it next to the cash register. There weren’t that many customers in today, it seemed; but Marinette’s attention was caught by a curious white balloon-looking thing holding a tray of buns. To her surprise, it waddled up to her, and - were those two black dots supposed to be eyes? - it spoke.

“Hello. I am Baymax. Would you care for a red bean bun?”

“Um, sure.” Marinette plucked a golden-brown pastry from the tray. “Thank you. Are you a waiter, or. . .?”

“I am Baymax,” the balloon repeated. “A personal healthcare companion. I am responsible for the wellbeing of patients assigned to me. Anyone who comes through that door is now my patient. You are my responsibility. Please, follow me.”

Baymax waddled towards an empty table and, with the pace of a snail, dragged out a chair. The scriiiiiiiitch made Marinette wince, but she sat when Baymax looked at her expectantly. It didn’t seem like it could smile, but Marinette thought she detected pride in its voice for successfully taking care of her. She had to admit, it was kind of cute.

“Please take your time to browse the menu. I must report that a new patient has arrived, but your order will be taken care of shortly.”

Baymax shuffled off, occasionally knocking around tables and chairs and a customer, and disappeared into the kitchen.

“That was so weird,” Tikki whispered. “Do you think all cafes are like that here?”

“I don’t know, but I thought it was funny,” Marinette said as she flipped through the menu. “What d’you want, Tikki? I’ll get it to-go for you.”

Tikki peered out of the bag. “Ooooh, those strawberry cookies look good!”

“Okay, cookies for you, and . . .” Marinette flicked through the pages. “Oolong tea to go with the red bean bun. Oh, just in time! Here he comes again.”

After Marinette had placed her order, she pulled out her sketchbook. It was a new one she’d bought just to celebrate her move to San Fransokyo, its pages crisp and creamy-white. The Lucky Cat Cafe, cute and colorful and beautifully quirky, seemed like the perfect place to start brainstorming new ideas. But she’d just barely touched pencil to paper when a voice called out, “Order for Marinette coming through!” followed by, “Shit, no, Mochi, bad cat - nononono SHIT!” then -

Whump.

CRASH!

Splshhhhh.

A middle-aged brunette poked her head from the kitchen, looking mildly concerned. “Everything okay, Hi - oh. I suppose not. What on earth happened?”

“Sorry, Aunt Cass.” A guy with unruly black hair in an apron looked up at Marinette, soaked in tea and mouth agape, and then at the tray, shattered teacup, and scattered cookies from where he lay sprawled on the floor. “Mochi happened. You okay, miss?”

“What?” Marinette blinked herself out of her shock. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. But your fall looked worse than - oh no, my sketchbook!”

The guy scrambled up and leaned across the table, wincing at the sight. All the pages were soaked and stained brown. Even after it dried, there was no way Marinette could use it.

“I am so, so sorry about that,” the guy apologized, abashed. “I’ll give you the money for it, no problem. And a fresh batch of those cookies to take with you, since I’m sure you’ll never come back here again. But, uh, would you like to have a change of clothes before you go? We’ve got t-shirts and stuff, totally free of charge, of course.”

Marinette held up a hand, trying to bite back a smile, her indignation and fury fading. She knew she should be angry that her sketchbook was ruined, but it was really sweet that the guy was trying so hard to make up for it. It was hard to stay mad at someone who looked so ashamed of himself.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “You don’t have to pay me back. I’d appreciate the change of clothes, though. But I’ll pay for them - no, please, if you’re giving me the cookies for free, it’s the least I can do.”

The guy whistled. “Damn, I don’t think we’re ever going to get another customer as nice as you. Too bad you won’t be coming back after this.”

“Nothing could keep me away from those red bean buns.” This time, Marinette did smile. “They remind me so much of home.”

“I’ll let Aunt Cass know, then. She’ll definitely want to adopt you after hearing that.” The guy collected the tray and shards of ceramic, then motioned Marinette to follow him up a staircase behind the coffee bar. “Come on, I’ll get you the clothes. Baymax will take care of the cookies.”

“Are all cafes like that here?”

“Like what?”

“Do they all have balloon robots as waiters?”

The guy laughed. Okay, he was cute when he laughed. Pretty cute in general, actually, with warm brown eyes and bedhead hair and a crooked grin and dimples . . .

Which Marinette was not staring at. No way.

“Baymax really isn’t a waiter. He’s a healthcare companion. He just likes helping out from time to time.”

Marinette frowned. “But shouldn’t he be at a hospital or something like that?”

“It’s kind of a long story.” The guy shot her a smile that, to Marinette’s dismay, made her heart flutter. “But if you’re really set on coming back, we could swap next time you’re here. Mine for yours.”

“What makes you think I have a story?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to hear next time I see you.”

How was this bastard so smooth? Just minutes ago he’d been an apologetic, bumbling mess, but now Marinette was the one under the spotlight. Thank God for all that time spent with Chat Noir, or else her face would be as red as a strawberry right now.

“It’s a deal, then.” She stuck out her hand, and the guy shook it.

“Through here.” The guy ushered her into a bedroom, threw a set of clothes at her, and backed out quickly. “Just come down when you’re done. I’ve got to go soon, so I’ll probably be gone when you’re finished, but it was nice meeting you. Well, all circumstances considered. I’ll be waiting on that deal.”

And with one last crooked smile, he shut the door.

Tikki zipped out of her bag, giggling. “Well, he was certainly nice, hm? Not to mention good-looking.”

“Oh, hush,” Marinette scolded. “I barely know him. Besides, anyone that smooth with a stranger? He probably does it all the time. I am curious about Baymax, though. And like you said earlier, it’d be nice to have a friend around.”

“So you’re going to cash in on the deal?” Tikki wiggled her eyebrows. “The way he said it, it sounded awful lot like a date to me. Or, at least, he wanted a date.”

“All I want is a friend, Tikki,” Marinette said, exasperated. “I’ve dealt with enough love problems for the past few years. I don’t need them to follow me all the way to America.”

“Whatever you say, Marinette.” Tikki kept quiet until they exited the cafe, and Marinette was worried she’d somehow offended her Kwami when she piped up with:

“You have to admit, you really liked his dimples, didn’t you?”

“Tikki!”

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #big hero 6 #big hero six #baymax #hiro hamada #hironette #hiro x marinette #disney #idk what else to tag??#loooots of backstory went into this #i'm invested and i will see this fic to the end #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug

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ggfj84 · 4 years ago

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Summary: Keith had become such an important part of Shiro’s life, his Guide, and as Keith’s Sentinel, Shiro would find him.

Gift fic for runonthewind on AO3

---

Coastal citrus and sea mist, with the overwhelming scent of fresh paint and wet dog. Keith could scrub his hands and clothes all he wanted, but he could never leave the scent of his studio behind.

Shiro was never so grateful.

He locked onto it the moment he saw paint splattered upon the loft’s hardwood floors, Kosmo whimpering the corner, and a shattered casserole dish on the kitchen counter.

“Someone stabbed Kosmo and took Keith,” Shiro clipped as he pressed a dishtowel down upon the panting wolf’s stomach. He glanced back at the smashed but steaming casserole. “Couldn’t have been more than a few minutes ago.”

“Are you at the loft?” Allura asked via speakerphone. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“I’m going after Keith.”

“No. Wait for – ”

Shiro hit off his cellphone, then petted Kosmo’s ruffled flank. “Don’t worry, boy. I’ll bring him back.”

And then he was gone – through the open window, down the fire escape, and onto the streets of Marmora. As he stood before the opening of their loft, Shiro took a calming and deep breath. He let it go slowly and then repeated the motion.

The scent of coastal citrus and seat mist was stronger to the east.

Shiro retreated to the alley where he parked his motorcycle, pulled on his helmet, and hit the throttle. As Keith’s scent progressively grew stronger, it dragged Shiro back to the first day he met his Guide.

Shiro had just been released from the hospital after the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with him – despite Shiro experiencing heightened senses – and headed to the nearby Altea University. A nurse at the hospital had sent him in search of an anthropologist who had written a dissertation on Sentinels and Guides, and Shiro ran – literally – into Keith.

A head shorter than him, vibrant indigo eyes, long bangs, ripped jeans and a leather jacket – and young - in his early to mid-twenties.

Shiro blinked and for the first time since his senses went haywire, breathed. It was as if his senses settled, and he was normal again – or as normal as anyone ever was.

Keith and he went to a nearby sitting area, and as Shiro explained his struggles to reign in his senses, Keith wrote in his notebook.

After about thirty minutes, Shiro sighed, “And that’s why I sought you out, Dr. Sandburg.”

Keith flustered. “Oh, hm. I’m not Dr. Sandburg. I’m Keith. Keith Kogane.”

Shiro gripped the chair’s arms. “But you were outside Dr. Sandburg’s office.”

“Yeah. Asshole gave me a B-minus on my last paper. I wanted to ask him what he was looking for if not a 10-page paper about the Galran culture and its impact upon Earth’s spaceport cities.”

“But-But you’ve been taken notes this entire time!”

“Oh, no.” Keith flipped his notebook around to show a very generous sketch of Shiro’s torso and head. “I’ve been sketching. I’m Visual Arts major.”

Shiro’s mouth dropped open and then closed again. He could only muster, “…that’s…not really what I look like.”

“No?” Keith flipped the notebook back to himself. “Hm. I think it is.”

Dr. Sandburg didn’t return to his office that day, though Keith kept Shiro company through the rest of his wait. As they broke at the end of the day, Shiro “zoned-out.” He struggled to think, to function, but when Keith stepped off the curb in the way of a speeding car, Shiro snapped out of his funk and lunged at Keith, dragging him away from the car and to safety.

The only other thing Shiro could think to do was head to his partner, Allura, with Keith in tow.

“Hm. Enhanced senses, a fateful meeting, a life-or-death situation – all the makings of a Sentinel-Guide relationship.”

“Relationship?” Keith parroted.

Allura hummed her agreement and poured them some tea. “I never told you this, Shiro. My father and Zarkon were afraid if the truth came out, scientists would want to study them more closely. But my father was a Guide, and Zarkon was his Sentinel.”

Even if Shiro hadn’t known Allura since they were children, he still would have known about Alfor and Zarkon. They were decorated detectives of the Marmora Police Department and worked for the Major Crimes Department before Allura and Shiro. The duo solved more cases than any other partners in the department history – combined. That was – until they were killed in an ambush by a gang whose leader they’d arrested.

Allura explained what Dr. Sandburg hadn’t – for every Sentinel, there was a Guide. And a Sentinel worked alongside a Guide to protect their territory.

In their case, the territory was Marmora.

Though it took a few months of coincidences, Shiro eventually came to believe what Allura said – Keith and his meeting was fated.

His and Keith’s lives became intertwined. They met in the morning at the bagel store, at the library, at a park where Shiro was taking down a drug dealer and Keith was simply walking his wolf.

Chance meetings, all of them, or so it seemed.

Then Keith’s warehouse apartment was blown up, thanks to a drug lab next door, so it only made sense for Shiro to invite him (and Kosmo) to live in the loft. Afterwards, Keith somehow became engrained in all parts of Shiro’s life – from sharing meals to helping Allura and him solve cases.

Shiro smiled every time he caught the strong scent of Coastal citrus and sea mist when Keith entered the precinct.

Without even swiveling in his chair, Shiro would always tease his Guide, “Good to smell you, Keith.”

Keith heaved himself up onto Shiro’s desk with a sigh. “I’m never going to sneak up on you, am I?”

“Not unless you become a super-secret ninja or something.” Shiro smiled and turned to give Keith his full attention. “So what brings you to the Marmora Major Crimes bullpen, huh?”

Keith had become such an important part of Shiro’s life, his Guide, and as Keith’s Sentinel, Shiro would find him.

Keith’s scent grew until it practically choked Shiro, and then he caught the sound of Keith’s scream. Shiro’s bike skidded to a halt, and he swiveled it around until it faced the door of a rundown warehouse. He gunned the throttle and tore through the door – only to find Keith already doing a number on the people who took him.

Shiro immediately recognized the purple, blue, and orange colors as the Sincline Gang. Allura and he had just arrested their leader – Zarkon’s wayward son – and apparently, his lieutenants took offense.

Of course, they hadn’t expected Shiro’s Guide to be an expert in both the linear and circular techniques of Taekwondo.

As Keith took down one of the smaller gang members, Shiro launched himself off his bike, threw his helmet at the largest one, and then used his momentum to drag her to the ground. One punch knocked her unconscious, and he moved onto the next one.

As he blocked a kick and delivered his own, he smelled Keith’s coastal citrus and sea mist, with hints of fresh paint and wet dog, but he also smelled the oil on the ground from the van they used to bring Keith here. He heard the thundering sound of Keith’s beating heart and the fluttering of wings – a bird was in the crossbeams. He saw the droplets of blood Keith drew from the last lieutenant’s cheek as he delivered a crushing blow. Then white noise – only white noise – as Keith’s bangs framed those piercing eyes.

Keith’s plush lips pursed when he said Shiro’s name, but it sounded so far away – like Shiro was underwater. Shiro’s fingertips scraped across his jeans as he blinked, losing his thoughts with each passing moment.

A smooth hand cupped his cheek. Keith’s face peeked up under his chin, and then those soft, pink lips were upon his own.

They were warm and tasted a bit like coffee, and then reality came rushing back to Shiro.

Shiro’s hands found Keith’s hips, and he lowered his head to allow Keith to drop off his toes. He deepened the kiss and let the relief wash over him as he held Keith warm and safe in his arms.

When they broke, Shiro dropped his forehead to Keith’s, but Keith spoke first.

“Welcome back.”

“Thanks. You okay?”

“Yeah, but these assholes ruined our dinner. It was a cauliflower mac ‘n’ cheese casserole.”

Shiro grimaced. “Babe, that’s not mac ‘n’ cheese.”

Keith rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away. “Excuse me for trying to get some vegetables into your diet.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Shiro offered as he reached into his pocket for his phone. “Now, let me call this in and then we have to get Kosmo to the vet.”

Keith visibly relaxed and sagged against Shiro. “Fine, but…don’t go too far, okay?”

Shiro kept his arm about Keith’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

The End

#shiro #keith #sheith #voltron #voltron legendary defender #fanfic #ggfj84 writes #sentinel/guide au #artist keith #cop shiro

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novannna · 4 years ago

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Write Our Story in the Stars

so for school we did nanowrimo and i actually like the story I wrote so i’m posting it to tumblr :)

This story is about a girl and a princess who grow up together, closer than sisters. The girl wants only to be the princess’s guard so they can stay together forever. When she gets a chance to prove herself worthy to be the princess’s sole protector, she jumps on the oppurtunity. She and the princess leave on a journey to find a stolen treasure. While on the journey, the girl finds out a dark secret about her past….(cliche, ik)

If you haven’t read the other chapters yet, you’ll definetly want to before reading this chapter.

wc:1637

Chapter 3 here

The girl screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

The princess watched as the girl fell to the ground writhing in pain, the jewel still clenched tightly in her fist.

The girls back arched as she let out the loudest scream yet.

She slowly rose into the air, levitating, not unlike the stone when they entered the cavern.

Her limbs jerked open.

And something began to change.

The screaming ceased. The girl slowly fell down.

She landed heavily on a knee. The ground shook beneath her.

And slowly, the girl stood once more. She brought her hands together, now clutching the jewel tightly between her palms.

The girl clenched her jaw, but refused to let a single noise out.

She was done with pain.

And she was done with disappointment.

This stone would bend to her will.

She would get everything she had ever wanted.

And she would never let the stone fall into the hands of her enemies.

No, this was her fate. She was the one in charge now. And if the stone did not let her get that, then she would show it.

The girl hurled the jewel onto the ground, and it shattered into a million pieces. The energy disappeared. All of it, gone.

The absence left the princess gasping on her knees.

A beam of pure energy shot up from the ground, concealing the girl.

The princess stared at it, still trying to figure out what was happening still.

Just as suddenly as the energy had disappeared, the light disappeared as well.

And the girl stepped forwards, the very earth shaking beneath her feet.

Chapter 4

Mallory felt as if every atom in her body was splitting apart.

The jewel had hurt more than anything she had ever felt.

Until she had realized why she took it.

She wanted a chance to be something. And she would never achieve that from the princess’s shadow. She wanted to be the important one.

And if the jewel refused to let that happen, she would make it.

So she destroyed it, and let its power flow into her.

She became the jewel.

And for the first time in her life, Mallory was powerful.

And she felt giddy when she stepped out of the light. The shards of the jewel gleamed dully. They had no power. Mallory did.

So she tilted her head and laughed. And it felt good.

She laughed until she saw Talia watching her with wide, scared eyes.

She lay curled up on the ground, her face filled with confusion.

“Mallory,” she whispered. “What have you done?” The utter betrayal in her eyes almost made Mallory regret her choice. Almost.

Mallory laughed once more. “I’ve made my future, princess,” she spat.

“What do you mean?” Talia struggled to her feet. “You have a future.”

“A future? A future as your guard? Serving under you for the end of your life?” Mallory shook her head. “That's not a future. That's not a life. Now, I have something for myself. Finally.”

Talia’s eyes started to tear. “You said it was me and you till the end.”

Mallory spread her arms wide. “Guess what. It’s the end.”

“No…”

“Go home, princess. You aren’t wanted here.”

Talia struggled to step forwards. “Mal, my father will still let you come back if you give me the jewel. You can’t handle it. You don’t have the blood.”

“I can’t give you the jewel. It's gone. The jewel of Asno is no more.”

“But… how?”

“I am the power now. And I will never give it up.”

“Asnon will be destroyed!” Talia cried.

“Let it burn. I will never help your father. Not after what he did to my family.”

“Mal, what do you mean? Your family's dead. He’s never done anything.”

Mallory sneered. “Then ask him yourself. If he’ll tell you.”

“So that's it? You’ll just leave? And forget everything we were? Mallory, you are my best friend.”

“No. I was your servant. Quiet. Complacent. Always following your orders. We were nothing. Don’t try to tell me that we were friends. You never once asked me if I was okay with any of it.”

“I assumed..”

“You assumed.” Mallory sneered. “Let your father send his men after me. I’ll crush them all.”

Mallory reached for something inside her, and thrust out her hand. A gust of wind rushed out, knocking Talia back down.

Mallory laughed again. “You can’t stop me.”

“Mallory, please. Don’t do this. We can still go back, you and me. Together till the end.”

And Mallory shook her head. “No. Run back to your kingdom princess. I’ll find my own.” She jogged away, leaving the princess far behind.

---

Mallory emerged from the cave, blinking in the sunlight.

She realized with a shock that she had been changed by the jewel.

Mallory had been so preoccupied by the princess, she had not even realized what had happened to her.

Her skin had paled to a color close to white, and her nails were the same color as the jewel.

The same translucent white with shifting colors.

She reached up, and pulled a strand of hair down.

Her soft black was replaced by a harsh, shifting white.

Mallory grinned. She no longer was that helpless servant anymore. And she did not want anymore reminders of that.

She slung her sword off her shoulder, and drove it into the ground next to the horses. The armor too.

It all had to go.

She was not a servant. She was not a citizen of Asnon. She was not a part of their empire.

And then, there was the matter of her newfound power.

She had caused a gust of air to knock Talia down.

Mallory raised her hand, and furrowed her brows.

WInd shot out, barreling into trees, knocking them over.

Mallory grinned. She lowered her hand, but still let the wind ravage the clearing. Slowly, she let it fade out.

Mallory tried something new. She let her mind relax.

She slowly bent down, and slid her hands up her body.

Armor coated her skin.

It was more like a second skin. It moved fluidly with her, and it didn’t press against her uncomfortably. It wasn't hot, or hard. But Mallory knew it was impenetrable. It was made of the same pearly white stone as the jewel, just without the power.

She could make things out of nothing. She had power.

Mallory spun around, wildly moving her hands. A wall of white flames leapt up, and bounded across the trees, but were quickly extinguished by a wall of water. Wind rushed overhead, and white rocks shot out of the ground.

And Mallory was in the center of it all.

She was the one who had caused all of this.

She was the one with the power.

Not Talia, not the king, not the other guards.

No. She had done this.

Mallory had the power to do all of this. She was the strongest person in the world.

And so, she let herself smile, a real genuine smile for the first time since she was a girl.

---

Talia struggled with each step as she inched towards the bright opening. None of the traps had bothered her, which was good because she would have most certainly been killed by them.

Her mind was still flooded with thoughts of Mallory.

The way she had looked at Talia, nothing but hate and malice in her eyes.

The way she had thrust her hands out, and pushed Talia away.

Talia never had known that Mallory had felt that way.

She never knew anything.

She had always thought Mallory was happy with her position. She only wanted them to be together. She never craved power.

But Talia had been so wrong.

And now her best friend was gone. Maybe forever.

Talia wiped her wet eyes again. She thought about the way Mallory had stepped forwards. The way her now pearly white hair streamed behind her, and her pale lips split to grin.

The way her now white eyes sparked with joy and happiness.

And the way that lovely face had looked at her, and twisted into hate.

Hate and loathing and utter spite.

It was too much. But Talia had to keep going. She had to get home.

Now Asnon was facing an even bigger threat, and they had no idea.

Finally, she stepped out of the dim cave, and saw the utter destruction waiting for her.

White flames flickered weakly, and huge puddles covered the ground.

Trees were knocked over everywhere, and huge shards of rock jutted out of the ground.

THe sharp smell of pine and smoke lay heavy in the air.

Mallory had done all of this. She had caused this complete destruction.

Asnon was in even more danger than she thought.

And...Mallory was even more gone than she thought.

Talia spotted her uniform ripped to shreds near the horses who were, miraculously still safe.

Talia rushed over to them.

A single spike of milky white rock had speared Mallory’s chest plate, and the cloth fluttered weakly in the breeze.

The sword Talia had given her was speared into the ground.

It was a warning.

Mallory was not the servant anymore. She was her own person, and she had severed all ties to them.

She would crush anyone who crossed her.

And Talia understood the message perfectly.

Mallory would kill her, if given the chance. She was not the little girl who just wanted a place to escape the world.

Talia slid to the ground, and stared numbly at the sword.

She had thought she had given Mallory the world, but instead she had just pushed her farther into the dark.

Mallory was going to tear apart everything Talia had ever known.

And Talia was struck by a realization.

It was all her fault.

#write our story in the stars #my oc's #Mallory #Talia #my story #Nanowrimo

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lyssismagical · 5 years ago

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what is and what should never be

Whumptober Day 18 & 20. Muffled Scream/Trembling

Read on AO3

{Based on Supernatural Episode: What is and What Should Never Be (2x20)}

Peter jolts awake, heart already racing. The last thing he remembers is a flash of blue and then everything had gone dark.

The room around him is dimly lit, the beginnings of a sunrise peeking out from behind half-closed curtains. He’s lying in a comfortable bed, thick blankets tucked loosely around his body with just enough slack to not feel like he’s suffocating.

He pushes himself up, carefully cataloguing the room.

It’s obviously a bedroom. Probably meant for a teenage boy with the generic décor.

A messy desk, covered in homework and stacked with textbooks and novels. A few mason jars stuffed with pencils and pens. A dresser, a few drawers open with clothes folded inside. The nightstand has a lamp that he flicks on, casting shadows around the room.

It looks like someone’s lived here recently, but Peter’s never seen the room in his life.

And then he sees the framed photo on the desk.

He nearly falls in his rush to get to his desk, collapsing in the chair and picking up the photo.

It’s a picture of him. He looks twelve, maybe thirteen in the picture. He’s grinning from ear to ear, looking happier than ever.

But the weird part is who he’s standing with. His parents, Mary and Richard, stand on either side of him, looking older than when he ever knew them, but they’re their in the photo, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Mary’s pressing a kiss to his temple and Richard’s looks like he’s laughing. Younger Peter in the middle looks happy, cheeks still chubby and reddened, smile stretching wide over his features, eyes sparkling in the flash of the camera.

The breath is torn from his lungs.

The photo falls from his grip and hits the edge of the desk, shattering on impact.

“Peter?” A woman’s voice calls out gently. She doesn’t sound like May. “You okay in there?”

He stumbles up from the chair, looking around the room for any other signs of something wrong.

Out his window there’s the Golden Gate Bridge. The pages on his desk are all signed with his name. There’s a Tony Stark poster on his wall.

“Peter?” There’s a soft knock on his door and it opens a little bit. “Are you okay?”

He turns quickly, heart racing faster than he thinks is healthy, and his breath hitches.

Mary Parker.

She’s just as beautiful as she was in the pictures Peter saw of her. Her hair’s down to her shoulders, a soft auburn color that brings out some color in her pale face. She’s got a caring smile on her face, worry clouding her brown eyes.

She’s beautiful and alive and standing right across from Peter.

“Mom?” he breathes, taking a slow step towards her. He doesn’t know if this is real. If this is a dream. If this is a trick.

She tips her head to the side, confusion clouding her expression, but her smile doesn’t drop. “Yeah, honey? You alright? You’re looking really pale.”

“Mom,” he says again. The word is almost foreign to his mouth. He hasn’t seen her in over a decade. It’s been years since he lost her and now she’s here and alive and he doesn’t care if this is a trick.

He falls into her arms, hands clutching at her back as he tucks his head against her shoulder, wanting to cry. She’s here. His mom is here. He missed her so much.

She wraps her arms around his back, cradling him gently against her, and she lets out a sigh.

“I’m here, baby. You’re okay. Did you have a nightmare?” she asks against his hair.

He wants to say that the last ten years have been a nightmare and he’s finally waking up. But he pushes it down. He won’t tell her or else it might crumble.

“I’m okay,” he says instead. He closes his eyes, hugging her tighter, breathing in the smell of home. “I just… I just got scared for a second. I’m okay.”

She pulls away a little bit, enough to cradle his face in her calloused palms. She’s smiling at him, expression open and loving, and it takes all of Peter’s willpower to refrain from hugging her for the rest of eternity.

“C’mon, your dad’s making pancakes,” she says, nodding her head towards the door. “If we hurry, we can sneak some chocolate chips into the batter!”

He sits at the kitchen table, trying to act casual and nonchalant, like he’s meant to be there.

There’s a giant glass door leading out to a patio facing the ocean. The Golden Gate Bridge is practically right outside their backdoor.

He’s living with his parents in California.

Holy fuck, he’s living with his parents in California.

“You sure you’re alright?” his dad asks, carrying the stack of pancakes to the table. He looks a little rougher around the edges than Peter can remember from his blurry childhood memories and the stories he was told.

He’s got curly brown hair like Peter’s, messy and unkempt, a pair of glasses askew on his nose, an almost wild look behind his eyes like he’s ready for the next Big Idea. The kind of look he’s seen in Tony’s eyes thousandth of times-

Holy shit, Tony.

“I’ve gotta- Could I call someone? I’ll be quick,” he says, barely catching himself from knocking over his chair in his haste to stand.

His mom (his actual fucking mom-) nods with a pointed look. “Don’t be long or your breakfast will get cold.”

He nods quickly and races back towards where he remembers his bedroom to be. It only takes a few moments of tearing his room apart to find his phone underneath his pillow. It’s not the phone he had before, but it turns on when he opens it and he has Tony’s number memorized.

“This is Stark. You shouldn’t have this number. Don’t call back,” the message tone says, making Peter’s face fall.

How much is different?

He calls again, but to no avail, so he tries the next best thing.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is going to sound crazy, but-”

“Who is this?” Pepper asks, a little bit too unkindly to sound like her. “I don’t have the time for prank calls or-”

His hands are shaking. “This is Peter. Peter Parker, ma’am. And I need to talk to Tony. ASAP. Please, I-”

She sighs softly. “Listen, kid, as much as I’d love to hand you over to the him, neither of us have the time to answer every single phone call from fans. So, please don’t call this number again. You shouldn’t have it in the first place.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but is met with the telltale beeping of an ended phone call. He only has one more option he can think of.

“What do you want?”

“Happy, please-”

The call ends.

Breakfast is too long and his leg won’t stop bouncing under the table and his hands shake where they clench the utensils.

He excuses himself to his room as soon as he can manage without sounding suspicious and he immediately hops into researching.

There’s plenty of search results when he types in Tony Stark, but one thing that’s missing entirely is Iron Man.

There’s all of the articles about Tony getting kidnapped, taken to Afghanistan, but apparently, Rhodey was the one who rescued him. No arc reactor, no super suit, no Iron Man.

Obadiah was still found out, but it went down in a humane way. A court case, a trial, and Obadiah went to the prison.

Tony handed the company over to Pepper who transformed it into the reusable energy and environmentally friendly company it is now, with Tony working in the background as the engineer. Apparently, Tony pretty much went MIA after that. No more press conferences, a few paparazzi pictures here and there, but nothing that stands out.

Until last year, when Pepper and Tony got married.

It was all over the press after Pepper flashed an engagement ring at a press conference and then she shared pictures online of their small wedding.

So, Tony and Pepper are married.

A little more digging and he finds out Steve Rogers died in the plane crash, Bucky died when he fell from the train.

Which means, no Iron Man, no Captain America, no Avengers…

There’s nothing on the internet about any of the other Avengers, meaning none of it ever happened. Loki never came to Earth, The Winter Soldier was never created which means Tony’s parents were never killed, they just retired, Ultron was never invented. Nothing.

That’s great and all, Peter’s beyond happy for Tony and how great his life went, but… if there’s no Avengers…

And then, the worst.

He tries to stick to the pencil and it falls from his grip. He tries to bend the chair leg, but it doesn’t give like it would’ve before. He tries to hear anything outside his room, but he can’t strain his ears hard enough.

He’s not Spider-Man.

He tries a few more times to call Tony’s phone number, and after a second time calling Happy, Peter’s number is blocked, but, surprisingly, Pepper picks up again.

“Kid, I told you the first time, I’m running a multibillion-dollar company, unfortunately, I don’t have the time-”

“You’re allergic to strawberries,” he blurts. “And you hate the color green, your favourite is purple, like a lavender color. You got the nickname Pepper after you pepper-sprayed someone in the face right before your job interview for Tony, and he thought it was the funniest thing in the world.”

Pepper stays quiet, so Peter forges ahead, “When you were a kid, you were in the foster system and when you turned sixteen, you started living in an apartment with a bunch of girls you hated.

“You went to University to become a school teacher. You wanted to teach second graders, but your prof told you to go into high school teaching, but when you tried to apply for jobs as a high school teacher, you couldn’t get any because you had a criminal record, so you started working as a secretary nearby Tony’s place in Malibu. He saw you at a coffee shop and he knew he needed you to work for him, so you got your job as Tony’s PA.”

“How do you know that?” Pepper asks quietly. “Who are you?”

“I’m Peter Parker,” he repeats, pacing his room anxiously. “I’m seventeen. And I know it sounds really fucking crazy, but I know you and I know Tony, but not here. Not now. I don’t know what’s going on, but everything’s wrong.”

She sighs. “Obviously, you’ve done your research, kid, and I get Tony’s famous and all that, but-”

“You don’t believe me,” he says. He grits his teeth and pushes down the urge to punch something. “Fine, whatever. You know what, it’s fine. Thanks for your time.”

He hangs up the phone and chucks it at his bed, watching it bounce harmlessly onto the pillows. He doesn’t know what to do.

He tries his best to act nonchalant throughout the day, playing along with the questions he’s asked and the conversations his parents hold.

It’s nice. He’s happy. He enjoys that they’re here and that they’re alive and he loves all of it. Whatever that magician had done to him earlier, it had granted a wonderful wish. That his parents had never died.

And he sees pictures of May and Ben and a set of twins who he finds out are his cousins. In his real life, he never had cousins. After his parents died, May and Ben wanted to support Peter financially and emotionally, and never really felt they could have other kids. And then Ben had died…

Which means, wherever he is, May and Ben are still alive, they’re happy and they have children and they live nearby in LA where Ben works for the LAPD and May works as a maternity nurse. Their kids are eight-years-old, a girl and boy.

It’s apparently Summer Break, Peter finds out when he snoops through his desk. He’s going to a high-class school and he skipped grade seven. He’s on the Debate Team and he has a bunch of photos with strangers above his desk.

It’s… It’s a dream life.

Even Tony seems happy according to the internet. He never had to go through the sudden loss of both his parents in that car accident. His father died that year, but it was of a stroke. Peacefully. And his mom was able to put him on a decent track by the age of twenty.

The whole Obadiah thing happened and Afghanistan, but Tony doesn’t have nearly as much trauma as he had in the Other Life. No wormholes or open heart surgery or near death experiences or almost losing his loved ones on numerous occasions.

It took him half as many years to marry the love of his life. If he’s right, Morgan might even already be alive, but not to the knowledge of the public. Tony’s happy, just doesn’t know Peter.

It’s a huge price to pay, but Peter’s always been paying prices for other people’s happiness.

To Tony, Peter’s sacrifice will mean nothing.

Peter could just move on. Live here with his family, adjust to life in California. Without Tony, and Tony would never know.

Unless…

Unless this is really all just a trick.

If it is, would he care? Would he give all of this up?

He curls up against his Mom’s side, legs over hers and feet tucked underneath his dad’s legs to keep them warm. They’re sharing a quilt across their legs as Star Wars plays on the TV. A bowl of leftover popcorn is on the coffee table along with their empty mugs for hot chocolate.

“Can May and Ben come over?” he asks out of the blue. He wants to meet his cousins. He wants to see Ben, alive and well. He wants to see May without the weight of the world on her shoulders. “We could have a barbecue.”

He doesn’t understand the perplexed look on his dad’s face.

“Why?” he asks slowly. “You know me and Ben don’t talk anymore.”

“You don’t-” He cuts himself off quickly. “Of course, I know. I would know that… Don’t you want to, I don’t know, reconcile? I mean, it’s summer break. Barbecues and swimming and hanging out. It would be fun.”

His mom, gently smoothing his hair out of his face, shakes her head. “Sorry, kiddo, it’s not going to happen. It can’t. We can see about babysitting your cousins for a weekend or something, but it’s not really up to us.”

He drops the subject quickly. He wants that, but he doesn’t know how much leeway he has with rocking the boat. He doesn’t know how stable this hallucination or alternate reality or whatever it may be, is.

As much as he wants to see them, he knows they’re safe and it’s just another price to pay on his part for their happiness.

He tries to sleep that night, but he tosses and turns endlessly, until eventually, he gives up.

He pulls on a t-shirt and heads out into the warm night.

San Francisco is bright and loud even in the dead of night, at least the area they live in. Lights are on, cars are driving, people are chattering, music is booming out of someone’s backyard.

It’s homey, even. He’s used to this kind of thing, only maybe a little dirtier out in Queens. He used to walk people home from parties all night back home as Spider-Man.

He wonders, in this life, if any of those people didn’t get home safe because there was never a Spider-Man. He wonders if those muggers, rapists, murderers, criminals, are all still walking the streets because he was never handed the opportunity to stop them.

Just because there were no big threats like Loki or Chitauri or Thanos, doesn’t mean the world was safe.

He tries Pepper’s cell again, despite knowing she lives in the safe timezone and would definitely be asleep long past now, and unsurprisingly, nobody picks up. He hangs up before he can hear her voicemail.

He tries Tony too, again, just in case.

And it rings and rings and rings, and Peter’s ready to give up, when,

“Hello?”

Tony’s voice is crackly and rough like he just woke up, but it’s warm and familiar and it’s all Peter’s been wishing for.

“Mister Stark?” he asks like he hasn’t memorized his voice. “I- I need-”

“Who is this?” Tony asks. He hasn’t hung up which is a good sign, but fuck, the words hit hard.

Peter sits down on a bench at a deserted bus stop, a few blocks from his house. His hands are shaking and he bunches up his sweatpants in his fist to stop the trembling.

“I- I’m Peter, sir, Peter Parker. And I know you don’t know me, but I- I know you. From another life, I guess, and I know I sound crazy, but I-”

Tony cuts him off, “I don’t understand. What? Another life? Listen, it’s one in the morning, you shouldn’t even have this number-”

“Mister Stark, please, I-” He pauses to clear his throat, rubbing his eyes in frustration at the tears that threaten to spill. “I need help. I don’t know what to do and I- I know you don’t understand, but something’s really wrong. And I- I just don’t know what to do. I-”

“Okay, kid, take a deep breath,” Tony says, just as soft as Peter can remember from his Real Life. “I need you to start from scratch, alright? Can you do that for me? If you can go through all the impossible trouble of finding my number, I can try my best to lend you a hand.”

It’s weird how little paranoia Tony has in this place. Without all of the shit that happened to him in the Real Life, Tony’s just a normal person.

“I was fighting a wizard, right? Back in Queens. You were on your way as backup. I called you for once in my life because I couldn’t do it on my own,” Peter explains. “And then I woke up here. In San Francisco, without powers, without you. With my parents who died over a decade ago.”

Tony takes a deep breath.

“Alright,” he says. “Right, okay, I’m not going to pretend I understand what you’re talking about, but how about this, kid, I’ll come visit you in the morning and we can work this out, alright? Whether that means paying for a psychiatrist visit or something bigger.”

“I’m not crazy,” Peter says quickly, sniffling. He hates how childish he sounds, but he’s scared. What if Real Tony is in the Real Life looking for Peter? What if Peter’s dead? What if this is meant to be Peter’s heaven? He doesn’t know.

“No, of course not, kid.”

They meet at Starbucks the next morning, Peter telling his parents he’s meeting a friend.

Tony’s wearing the same go to disguise he always wore in the Real Life, baseball cap and sunglasses along with an average outfit.

“Start from scratch,” Tony starts, passing a hot chocolate to Peter. “You know me but I know you, which isn’t that crazy for a famous person.”

“No, like I actually knew you,” Peter says, yawning. He barely slept last night, tossing and turning endlessly.

“Right…” Tony says. “Tell me something only you would know then.”

Peter takes a sip of his drink. “It’s more complicated than that. This, whatever this is, is different than my life. Where I lived, you were a superhero. We both were, that’s why I knew you. But here, that never happened. That’s why I’m- I’m confused.”

“Okay, but find something. There must be something that still happened through both lives. You told my wife a shit ton of stuff nobody’s supposed to be able to access.”

“Alright, um, at MIT with Mister Rhodey, you used to go to his family’s house in Pennsylvania for holidays because you didn’t want to go home. You and your parents were never that close. And Mister Rhodey’s mom may as well have adopted you. She just started expecting you to go,” Peter says.

He pauses, trying to remember the story to the exact. “One Christmas, there was a really shitty snowstorm in Massachusetts and Mister Rhodey had left a few days ahead of you because you had an overdo assignment to submit. You made it halfway there before realizing how bad the roads had gotten so you stopped at a hotel and waited for it to blow over. Mister Rhodey’s mom felt so bad when she found out you couldn’t make it because of the weather, she postponed the entire holiday by three days so you could celebrate it with them.”

Peter looks up from where his eyes had been trained to the table to find Tony watching him with a half-frightened, half-excited expression.

“What do you think, then?” Tony asks, quickly elaborating. “What do you think this place is? Some sort of utopia? Multiverse? What?”

Peter frowns. “I don’t know… It seems too good to be true, you know. You’re happy. My parents and uncle are still alive. I’m happy. That’s about as utopian as you can get.”

Taking a long sip from his drink, it’s hard for Peter to imagine how he could go back. Even if he knew how.

How could he possibly leave this life behind?

His family is here. He has Tony back. There’s no way they could bounce back to strangers after this.

If Peter had to go back… He’d have to say goodbye to his parents, Uncle Ben, blissful peace, and Tony’s happiness.

How he could do that?

Isn’t he allowed to be selfish for once in his life?

“So, I was a superhero?” Tony asks, pulling off his sunglasses. His eyes are practically sparkling with his excitement. “A real-life superhero?”

Peter flinches. He swallows hard, not knowing how to explain it.

“You were… But it wasn’t good,” he says slowly. He doesn’t want to tell this Tony everything that Peter’s Tony went through. “Anyway, what am I supposed to do?”

“And there’s the million dollar question!” Tony exclaims, clapping his hands.

(Tony’s drinking hot chocolate something that seems so small but a huge distinction to the Tony Peter knows. Not this Tony. Peter doesn’t know the man sitting across from him, without a coffee in his hand, wrists watchless, legs unbouncing, fingers still. Not the Tony Peter knows. A happy, carefree version, unriddled with anxiety or PTSD or depression. A stranger but a happy stranger.)

“And the answer?”

Tony grins. “That’s the fun of it. There is no answer.”

Peter can’t stay for very much longer, but Tony promises to keep in touch. His advice is just live your life, kid. If you’re happy, you’re happy, right?

Peter hates that advice.

He can’t just live his life in whatever place this is because he doesn’t even know if it’s real.

On his way home, he passes a store where the news is playing on the TV.

“In other news,” the man says, voice crackling over the speakers. “It’s been exactly three years since the deaths of over a dozen elementary students after a major bus crash on their way to school one morning.”

“No,” Peter breathes, shoving his way into the store to get closer to the TV. He stopped that bus crash. He saved every single one of those students. They even made it to school on time. He saved them all.

“As well as those fifteen students, Midtown is commemorating the lives of the eighteen people lost after the building collapse last year,” the news anchor continues.

Peter remembers that one too. He’d almost been too late, but he got everyone out of the building. He ended up trapped under the burning building and he’d called Tony in a panic, begging to be saved. All he could think about was Toomes and getting trapped under the warehouse. Tony had arrived and gotten him out in less than half an hour and Peter only had a mild concussion and a dislocated shoulder.

But if Spider-Man wasn’t there to save any of them…

Everyone’s gone.

Every person that Spider-Man saved, that he saved, they’re all gone.

Peter runs home.

He shoves past people and ignores his aching lungs and the tears that start rushing down his cheeks like a waterfall.

He sprints until he makes it to the safety of his home, shutting the door loudly behind him before collapsing to his knees, sobs and coughs wracking his body.

Cinnamon and Roses indicate the arrival of his mom, hands soothing and warm over his face and shoulders, and gently nudging a rescue inhaler into his mouth, counting breaths for him. The spider bite had cured his asthma.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asks quietly once he’s stopped coughing and has settled into wheezy sobs. “What happened?”

He shakes his head, collapsing into her awaiting arms. He can’t tell her.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs, kissing his head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk. I’ve got you.”

And so they sit, in the front entrance, rescue inhaler abandoned on the floor next to them, teenager’s body wracking with sobs, mother unknowing and in the dark struggling to comfort him.

There’s nothing she can do to soothe his grief.

“Why me?” he shouts, voice hoarse after spending the night crying against his mom’s shoulder. He’s standing out on the beach, glaring out at the open sea.

“Why me?” he chucks a rock at the water, angry and grieving. “Why does it have to me? Why do I have to be the one to save everyone? Don’t I deserve to just be a kid?”

“I’m sorry.”

Peter spins around, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. Doctor Strange stands there, portal glowing orange behind him.

“What- Why-”

“I don’t have much time,” he says. “And at the end, it is your decision, but this isn’t what you believe it to be. You are dying. It will feel like an eternity in your utopia, but in your life, you’ll die in a few days’ time.”

Peter wipes at his tears, wishing he felt strong and brave like a superhero, but the tears keep pouring.

“I don’t understand,” he says, voice breaking.

Strange’s face falls just a fraction. “I don’t have much time, but the wizard did this to you. You are trapped outside of your body. Your body is dying.”

“I’m dying?” he repeats. He feels muddled and dazed. “I don’t-”

“Child, this is the wizard’s doing. You can choose to stay and live forever here, or you can wake yourself up and rejoin your body in your real life,” Strange explains. The portal’s flickering behind him. “I’m running out of time. It’s up to you. I can’t help you.”

“How do I wake up?” He stumbles forward, but even Strange is flickering. “How do I-”

He reaches out to him, but then it’s only air and he falls forward into the sand.

Covering his face with his hands, sprawled in the sand in the middle of the night, feeling more alone than he ever has, he screams.

His scream, agonized and angry and grieving the losses he could’ve prevented, is muffled by his hands and covered up by the loud music playing from a house a little ways down the streets.

He screams and when his breath runs out, he cries, wishing he had more options.

Stay here and live out eternity, leaving behind everyone in his Real Life, or to go home.

There’s no in between, no third choices, no time to make a decision. A few days’ time and he can’t risk spending too long and have the decision made for him. And he doesn’t even know how to get back.

He turns onto his back, waves crashing a few feet away from him and moon smiling down at him mockingly.

“Why me?” he demands, tears running into his hair. “Why does it have to be me? Why can’t I make the selfish decision to stay here? Why am I not allowed to be happy?”

The moon doesn’t reply. Not like he thought it would.

“What? Mom and Dad aren’t allowed to live their life? Uncle Ben isn’t? May and Ben aren’t allowed to have kids and be happy? Tony isn’t allowed to be happy? Why do I have to sacrifice everything? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?!”

“I have to go,” Peter says. He’s standing at the front door, hand on the knob. Tony’s waiting out front for him.

“Where are you going, honey?” his mom asks, gently cupping his cheek. “Is everything okay? You know we love you.”

His dad stands beside her, features soft. “We really do love you, kiddo. You can talk to us about anything, okay? Just stay safe out there.”

He pulls them into a hug, holding them as close as he can.

There’s so much he wants to say.

He’s never going to see them again. Ever.

“I love you too.”

His mom kisses his hair and his dad squeezes his shoulder, and they both hold him close, and Peter wishes more than anything that he could stay here for just one more night.

But if he doesn’t leave now, he never will.

So he pulls away, scrubbing at the tears on his face and smiles at them.

“Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad,” he says, trying his best to throw on a brave face.

He doesn’t wait for a response, yanking the door open and refusing to turn back as he walks down the driveway to Tony’s awaiting car.

If he looked back, he’s scared he would’ve ran right back to them and let himself have this. He can’t.

He slides into passenger seat, barely looking at Tony. “LA, please.”

Tony doesn’t force much conversation on the drive to LA. It’s meant to take about five hours, but Tony makes it in about three and a half.

If there’s one thing that’s carried through, it’s the ACDC and Led Zeppelin he plays on the drive, turning it up nice and loud in his fancy car. He occasionally asks questions that Peter gives half-assed answers to or tells stories about his life now.

But otherwise, the only noise, is the air conditioner and the engine.

Tony stays in the car while Peter knocks on the door.

He needs to say one more goodbye.

The door opens and he’s met with the squinty-eyed stare of a man he hasn’t seen in so long.

“Ben,” he breathes.

“Peter?” his uncle ben says, confusion creasing his face. “It’s six in the morning, what are you doing all the way out here?”

His twin cousins are just inside the house sitting on the couch playing a videogame. They’re both giggling and shoving and teasing. They’re cute and they look more like May than Peter ever did.

“I, uh, I just wanted to see you. I can’t stay long, just wanted to check in while I was around, you know?” he says, trying his best not to cry.

The last time he saw Ben…

(Blood and tears. The gunshot like an explosion. His shaking hands desperately pushing against the room, begging for help but nobody would. The police officers pulling him away, taking him home to May, covered in blood and with the worst news.)

He can hear May in the background, humming along to an old song in the kitchen.

It’s the picture perfect life they always dreamed off.

“In the area?” Ben repeats in confusion. “What-”

“I should really get going. I just- I love you, okay? And I know my dad’s a stubborn man, but he loves you too, and so does my mom. You’re family, you know?” he says quickly, chin wobbling.

Ben’s face falls. “Yeah, of course, Peter. I love you too. You know we all do. And you’re always welcome.”

Peter can’t help himself from pulling Ben into a hug, pushing all of his energy into keeping the tears at bay.

“Goodbye,” he whispers against Ben’s shirt. He pulls away quickly, offering a smile, before turning and heading back to the car.

He tells Tony to pull off the road at a beach.

“Stay here,” he says, “Please.”

Tony looks uncertain but he nods and he doesn’t follow Peter when he gets out of the car and heads towards the ocean.

It’s an old wives tale. But Peter’s banking on it working.

He took a knife from his house in San Francisco, he’s going back to his Real Life. Back to his body as Strange put it.

Stopping right at the edge of the water, he slips the knife out of his backpack and faces away from the car.

He needs to do this. As much as he wishes he could live out the rest of his life in this utopia, he can’t. He has to go back home to Tony and May, and the shitty life he leads back there. He needs to be a hero. A selfless hero. He doesn’t have a choice.

He can hear Tony getting out of the car. He can hear the voices of the people he’s leaving filling his head.

(“You could live here forever, my child,” his mother says. “Me, you, and your dad. The life you always wanted. The family you need. All of us together.”

“You’re all alone out there, Peter,” his dad continues. “You don’t have anyone waiting for you. Everyone leaves you, have you noticed? But we won’t. We’ll be here forever. We won’t leave you.”

“Stay with us here, Peter,” Ben says, a chorus of yeses from the twins. “I’ve got everything I dreamed of having. You killed me in the real world, you made a different choice here. You don’t have to live with that guilt.”

“I’m no longer burdened with you. I’ve got Ben and the twins. I’m happy here, Peter. Isn’t that what you always wanted?” May continues. “Out there, I could finally be happy.”

“Come on, Peter. Stay with us here,” Tony says. He’s right there. Right in front of him. Smiling and offering a hand. “Stay here with us. You don’t need to go home. A lifetime in your utopia. Isn’t that all you could dream of?” )

Peter smiles at his family, the family he always dreamed of, the life he wished to have, and stabs himself in the stomach.

He jolts awake, gasping for air, scrambling at his stomach for the stab wound, but his hands are dry. No blood. No wound.

Immediately, there are hands on his face, on his shoulders, May in front of him and Tony at his side, and Peter breaks.

He falls into May’s embrace, grabbing at Tony’s arm like it’s a lifeline, hands tremblingly grasping the fabric of his hoodie, and tears staining May’s shirt.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry- I-” he tries to say, but he’s crying and his chest feels like it’s splitting open and all he can think is that he almost made the wrong choice.

They’re both trying to reassure him, gently and softly just like they always do, but he misses his mom and his dad and uncle ben.

They soothe him through his tears until he’s too tired to cry anymore, sitting in a hospital bed with the last of his family.

“It was… It was everything,” he tells them. “My parents never died. You weren’t Iron Man. I wasn’t Spider-Man. Ben never died, you had twins. It was- Everyone was so happy. Everything was what it should’ve been, but it- it wasn’t-”

“It wasn’t real,” Tony murmurs, smoothing Peter’s hair back.

“But I wanted to stay,” he whispers. “I wanted to be selfish and stay. It’s just- It’s too much.”

May sighs softly. “You’ve been through a lot, honey, but it’s worth it, isn’t it? You wouldn’t be the person you are today if you hadn’t. And all those people? You’ve saved millions. It’s worth it. And one day, you’ll get your own happy ending.”

“I wanted to stay,” he repeats. “It’s not fair.”

“I don’t know what’s worth, Bambi, but I’m glad you chose this. I’m happy you’re alive. Most people wouldn’t have.”

Peter shrugs, rubbing his eyes. “Well, couldn’t have you two living a peaceful life, could I? What would you do without me giving you heart attacks every week?”

They both smile, smiles that show there will be a long recovery to this. That this can’t just be washed away with bad jokes and repression. That this isn’t something Peter can ignore or move on from immediately.

But that’s okay.

“I love you,” he says. Right now, that’s all that matters. He doesn’t have his mom or his dad or his Uncle Ben, but millions of other people got to go home to their families because of him. He has May and Tony, and right now, he has to hang onto that.

“We love you too.”

They all squish into the hospital bed together and Peter falls asleep feeling heavy with grief, but safe and less alone than he did the whole time he was in that other world.

The other Tony may have had a much more peaceful life and been happy, but this Tony is happy too. Peter can tell he’s happy, carding his fingers through the teenager’s messy curls and pressing a kiss to his temple.

And May’s smiling, tucking the blankets up around them, making sure Peter’s comfy. She might not have gotten the life she expected, but she’s happy.

The job, the superhero gig requires sacrifices.

And Peter made the biggest one he’s ever made. He gave up utopia for this shitty life.

But it’s worth it.

Tucked between Tony and May, he decides it’s worth it.

Ben, Mary, and Richard would be proud of him.

It’s worth it. He made the right choice.

#whumptober2019 #no.18 #no.20 #muffled scream #trembling #lyss writes #irondad #don't tag as starker

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